The Unforgiven
by safetywords
Summary: With Stefan and Jeremy missing, Elena, Damon, and Alaric band together to learn the truth and bring them back safely. Too bad Damon's plan didn't include falling even more in love with Elena Gilbert. Post finale. New Summary
1. Chapter 1

**THE UNFORGIVEN**

**a one-shot by safetywords**

Damon Salvatore was well aware of the stinging agony of rejection.

He spent 145 years pining for a vampire, someone who he believed was his soul mate and one true love. And where did those thoughts get him? Alone. Bitter, fucked up, emotional, and alone. The icing on the cake was that Katherine Pierce, the Wicked Bitch of the South, had duped him all along.

Sometimes, he'd reminisce or have flashes of the past. Was anything real that year? Or was she just playing an Oscar winning role with him? Because if there was anything Damon knew about Katherine, it was her penchant for games and cheap thrills.

Nothing she ever did was driven by love or emotion. It all was done to satisfy her childish desires. In her mind, everyone and everything was a toy meant for her personal usage. There was no wrong action; just simple means to ends.

Even her temperament was unnatural. She was deadly and glacial and savage when she transformed. But she was alluring and beautiful and gentle when they shared a bed. So, who was the true Katherine? Was she a sweet, loving vampire with humanity? Or was she nothing more than the true embodiment of a monster?

Because all these years later, she was still torturing him, still lingering in a dark place of his mind. A broken heart from a damaged love story wasn't easy to heal. (Could they even heal properly?) Damon knew because he carried that emptiness every day - distraught over the fact that he couldn't distinguish who the real Katherine was.

All Damon wanted was the real thing.

But he had to hand it to her. She was entirely too good at what she did; she knew how impressionable he was from the start, how easy it was to intertwine herself into his heart. He was shy and cautious while she was confident and rash.

Damon's eyes flitted to his hand. The wound was healed but dried spatter clung to his palm. He made his classic 'mmm hmm' noise and wiped the blood onto his pants. Damon was aware of exactly how it happened.

Elena called crying that she couldn't reach Stefan and that she found her father, John Gilbert, bleeding in her kitchen with his hand cut off and blood pouring from a chest wound. She just kept repeating over and over again that blood was everywhere. And that there was a message on the wall that read: You asked for it. So, here I am. -K. It was written in blood with perfect, cursive penmanship.

Damon didn't need her to go into gory details to understand the startling truth: Katherine was back in Mystic Falls.

What posed as the biggest threat was her identical looks to Elena.

How long was Katherine in Mystic Falls? Was she masquerading as Elena? What made her come back?

Questions multiplied in his head. Soon they became utterly unbearable, flying at him faster than he could answer...or guess. With so many scenarios and possibilities floating around in his head, he couldn't wrap his brain over her sudden interest in the town, Elena, and him and Stefan. All he knew was that if he didn't figure something out soon, there would be a body-count.

Damon wouldn't allow a body-count, especially not on his watch. Katherine was out there, somewhere. She was lurking just out of plain sight, and would strike when the moment was right. He needed to predict her every move before she made them. A message so cold and written in blood was all the proof he needed to know his ex's true intentions: she wanted revenge.

And it was too convenient that Stefan was suddenly unaccounted for. He had a pretty good idea she was involved, intent on having the youngest Salvatore brother. Damon always thought she held a torch for Stefan anyway.

Over the past 145 years, Damon had plenty of time to ponder why Katherine chose Stefan to be her lover on the sly. It wasn't for his sexual prowess because Stefan had been unexperienced in that department. And it wasn't for loyalty either - Stefan wouldn't betray his brother. So, why did she chose him?

The only answer he could effectively conclude was that she reveled in the idea of destroying innocence. She could make Stefan her puppet by controlling his mind, by having him do all the things she knew Damon never would. Stefan projected virtue and every quality that made people trust and confide in him. Damon kept promises, but he deserted the Confederate Army. With others faith in him wavering, people began to wonder if he was capable of anything worthwhile.

Damon wasn't innocent. He wasn't evil either, but he saw things that Stefan hadn't. And these things had made him darker and harder on the inside. He hid it well, but it was a failed attempt. Katherine knew he was easier to break and mold into anything, but Stefan was the real challenge.

Katherine was like an on-target honing device. She was smart and precise and knew that Stefan was premium choice. Damon was just the runt of the litter- fun because he was different and struggling, but so small and insignificant that he was easy to overlook.

And was he ever overlooked. He saw how girls weren't lining up from miles to get a glimpse at him with his dark, unruly hair and blue eyes. No, the girls of Mystic Falls were entranced by Stefan, the heartthrob with his light hair and green eyes.

Stefan was the perfect target.

Everything was always about Stefan, Stefan, Stefan.

He was wholesome and loyal. Giuseppe loved him most because he was obedient and never questioned or pushed boundaries. His manners were just as flawless. Everything about his brother was a perfect model for what Damon was supposed to follow.

It was easy for Damon to slink into the shadows when Stefan had everyone's undivided attention.

Times were different then. In 1864, Stefan paraded around with confidence.

He was always taking charge, always playing the role of the big brother; he was Giuseppe's favorite son, the golden child. It was blindingly obvious to anyone in town. They'd assume that Stefan was older and the heir to the Salvatore fortune, and after a while, Damon stopped correcting them.

But he didn't hate his brother. There was a time when Damon could smile and laugh and joke with Stefan.

Once they were functional. Once they were inseparable and playing football together. Once they shared all of their secrets and regrets. But most of all, once being siblings meant a hell of a lot more than it did right then.

Damon clutched tighter onto the empty scotch glass. It shattered from his sheer strength. Shards of glass cut into his hand, blood dripping down his arm and staining the couch. But what did he care about the furniture at the boarding house? Personally, it was too kitschy for his taste and deserved an upgrade.

He leaned against the back of the couch and exhaled sharply. The mixture of pain and alcohol was coursing through his body. Even when he refused to admit it, he missed the real days with Stefan. Deep inside him, there was a small, maybe infinitesimal piece that wished that they had remained close. Even in death.

And then Stefan had gone and slept with his girl. Why couldn't his brother be happy for him? Why couldn't he have Katherine to himself? To Damon it was the ultimate betrayal, something completely unforgivable. And the worst part was that he was being betrayed by the woman he loved, too.

For true love, wasn't that supposed to be enough? Wasn't he supposed to be the only choice?

Katherine didn't think so. Maybe she picked him first, but he had never felt more like the last choice. Or maybe he wasn't a choice at all. He was just another nice guy finishing last.

And now she was back. That night he swore he was kissing Elena, he knew something wasn't right. He was just swept up in a moment he didn't want to end. But Elena would never betray Stefan. She made it clear so many times.

Maybe Damon was the stupid one. He didn't realize Katherine was impersonating as Elena until they kissed. It was soft, sweet, and gentle, but something about it didn't feel right. He should have called her out then; he didn't. If Damon wanted to outwit a vampire that had seen many more blocks than him, he couldn't bluff. He had to play into it like it was what he wanted.

And he had.

But how could he tell the difference, anyway? Katherine never looked at him with that kind of affection. And so he put his guard down, fully believing that it was nothing. Stefan wanted to dredge up the lake, but Damon didn't want to see what laid at the bottom. He was over and done with the evil bitch; he didn't need closure again. Damon was finally at the point in his life where Katherine Pierce didn't matter. An eternity was too long to spend making mistakes and choosing all the wrong roads.

Elena wasn't Katherine.

She saw through his thick fog and despair. Maybe he wasn't her favorite person in the world, but Damon knew he felt something. There was a connection, a camaraderie. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized he had spent so long on the hunt for someone who claimed to love him. It was just a silly obsession and fascination. Meeting and getting to know Elena proved that. The unknown feelings danced in his stomach. And when they started acting up, he'd make a wise crack. Being tough and the asshole had its perks: masking true feelings and vulnerabilities.

It was always Elena that saw through the thick fog and despair.

And even on some level, she was breaking his heart too. It wasn't her fault—at least not intentionally. He knew she didn't want to demolish what was left of his heart, but it didn't stop the throbbing ache in his chest. She was rejecting him, proving over and over again that Stefan Salvatore always got what he wanted.

As much as Damon wanted to be convinced otherwise, it was becoming 1864 all over again. And he just didn't get why everyone thought Stefan was fearless and perfect and better. Damon knew he had plenty of insecurities, but he wasn't always a monster.

Where did being loyal and loving ever get him?

Dead.

And then becoming the undead-living.

Stefan made his choices, too. He chose not to tell him about Katherine. It was breaking the guy code. Even more, it was destroying a sibling bond. It severed a line that could never be repaired. Damon knew that, but some days, it was hard to hold steadfast on that grudge. Both of them had been duped. They were supposed to unite and get over it. But if there was anything Damon knew, it was that he had a lifetime to think. And in a lifetime, he learned that at the end of the day, Stefan would always win.

Good would triumph bad.

And that made Damon jealous. The more time he spent around Mystic Falls and the people, the more he felt like this was the first time he had belonged in a long time. It felt like a place that could be home again, but no matter what Damon did, he would be the bad cop because in the world of Stefan, there could only be one good Salvatore brother. And Elena would choose the better of the two.

Clearly, he didn't have a chance; he was far from perfect. Hell, he didn't have any redeeming qualities left. But, a part of him wanted a shot with Elena. And the other part, deep down, reminded him that he didn't deserve or have the right to love after the countless human lives he ended.

He remembered many conversations with Elena. She understood why he made such awful choices, but that made him feel worse about his past. Justifications were just an excuse; Katherine was just an excuse. He couldn't hide behind that anymore.

Nothing in the world could take away what he'd done. There wasn't a 'do over' card he could whip out and try again. These were all of his decisions—his choices and burdens. No amount of good could make him a better person or erase the past he was intent on destroying.

For a long time, a world without Katherine wasn't worth living. At all. Some nights he'd sit awake, laying on the grass with his hands behind his head as he watched the murky, midnight skies. He'd think about all the evil things he had done, and he'd wonder how he could top it the next day.

If he was made a mockery of in human life, he wasn't about to let it happen in the afterlife. He'd be the biggest, baddest living-undead creature to ever walk the earth. And those feelings and this damnation, it was Katherine's fault. She was toxic, sucking him in while she sang her pretty song of seduction, and pulling him under into a world of pure darkness.

It was true that he was willing to die for Katherine.

Or it used to be.

But Damon was just a fool in love.

He'd never damn anyone to the cruel fate of being a vampire, not anymore. No matter how good he or Stefan tried to be, it didn't change the fact that they were vampires.

At the end of the day, he had to realize that Katherine transformed him into an animal. Everything became instinct and survival. There was hardly an room to feel emotion, and what little he had left, it was all for her.

It had always come down to her. And first love. And hundreds of other firsts. But the bitch had torn him apart. She wasn't in the damn tomb; she just snuck through the back door and left him like it was something she did all the time.

Hell, she didn't care enough to find him. She was the reason he was so tortured and miserable. And she could have ended it. She didn't.

Damon would never, under any circumstances, ever forgive Katherine for what she did to him. She just didn't deserve it. And for a while, he wondered what was the point in being a vampire. Everything he became was for nothing—for a woman who wanted to play a game until it was old.

He wasn't supposed to recover.

This was meant to be the bitter end. This was the best it got for a vampire.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Damon thought of Elena. He thought about how she restarted his heart; he thought about how different and special and achingly beautiful she was. There was this fire that burned deep within him, a fire that wanted him to protect her at all costs. Nothing, not even his animalistic needs, could tempt him to hurt her in any way. The innermost part of his soul cared for Elena as if she were the only significant person still alive in this hellish world.

Why else would he save her from a car wreck and carry her to his car?

It was a sweet gesture, something the white knight did to protect his Guinevere. Even in the absence of good intentions, it was clear that the true Damon was swallowed by layers of brick walls. It was a place where his humanity was hidden, a place that he couldn't seem to find unless Elena was there, removing his wall brick by brick.

There was no denying that she had saved his life in Georgia. He didn't deserve her understanding and sympathy then, but in that moment, Damon knew something was changing. She wouldn't save and protect a monster, not even for Stefan.

The truth always floored him. He was desperate to know what was so great about him that he was even worth saving. In the beginning, he followed her everywhere; entranced by her beauty.

She'd sit at the cemetery for hours, writing in her journal so fast. He'd smile at her furrowed eyebrows when she made a mistake and lost concentration. And that was the day he created the fog and tried to scare her off with the crow.

Someone so beautiful and pure wasn't meant to spend hours in a cemetery. Plus, as much as it ruined his ego to admit, he despised cemeteries. It brought him back to memories of his father. He was only a few weeks turned, and with Stefan on his blood binge, Damon realized he was alone. Of course Giuseppe wasn't a role model father; he was exactly like every other founding family of Mystic falls. He chose a favorite son. And maybe, on some level, Damon could understand it. He deserted the war; he wasn't cut out for all of the blood and death and destruction. It was too hard to fire a gun. His hand never stayed steady.

Did Giuseppe resent him because he tarnished the family name? Probably.

But Damon couldn't help but laugh about it. His favorite son was the one to end his life. Although, Damon wasn't about to lie. He loved his father up until the point he took Katherine away and shot him and Stefan. Vampires were dangerous. Giuseppe was a vampire hunter, so the understanding was there. True, there was a lot he could hate his father for, but he still loved him and respected him. And yet the idea of being in a cemetery chilled him. It always unsurfaced the unwanted memories of what Damon told his father's tombstone. They were words he didn't want to relive.

And that was why Damon wanted her far away. She needed to go home. Elena was precious and fragile and delicate. It wasn't until the first time, over dinner, that they officially met. He knew right then that she was genuine. And she had a nice, honest laugh. Elena wasn't artificial, and she didn't try to glorify the truth. She just apologized to him about losing Katherine.

That was the night Damon started respecting Elena Gilbert.

She was different in a way he could respect. Sure, he didn't enjoy when she was sullen or yelling at him or even scared of him, but he was a vampire. The truth was, he couldn't let her get too comfortable with that idea. There was a lot worse out there than him. If she wanted to be surrounded in a world of vampires, it was only fair that she knew what she was getting herself into. No matter what, Damon would follow Stefan. He would always torment him—even if they got on good terms.

Damon Salvatore was never going to be out of the picture.

If he had to play bad vamp with Elena, he would. Stefan was too entangled in his own world of torture and moroseness. Denying his existence just put everyone in danger. He needed to be strong, to feed on human blood. But it was clear that Stefan didn't have the strength or patience to handle anything other than animal blood.

How could Stefan adequately protect his so-called soul mate and one true love when he was too preoccupied with moping around and living out his days as if he were Bambi and his mother was dead?

Pretending that animal blood was enough was a silly notion. Damon knew, first hand, it didn't work. When the brother's parted ways, Damon had a phase in the 60's where he was adamant to change his lifestyle. It worked for a few years, but it never lasted. He was lying to himself and so was Stefan. Surviving on animal blood for an eternity wasn't a possibility.

But Stefan was bull-headed. He was determined to be the do-gooder. And hell, he was entirely too simpleminded. Back in the 1800's, he was enamored and obsessed with everywhere that she went and whatever she said. There was no doubt in Damon's mind that - that kind of power and deep-rooted obsession was still lingering. He suspected that his brother still thought of Elena as Katherine, at least on some level. And Damon was well aware that Elena wasn't and would never be Katherine.

It was time for Stefan to get the memo - wherever he was. The Katherine of modern times was just as bad as the Katherine of period times. She was evil incarnate with bad intentions. He imagined she had legions of follows from all over the world, waiting for their signal to rally and overtake Mystic Falls and the rest of the world.

Damon was positive that he and Stefan were collateral damage. Too much time had passed for him to want to justify why Katherine turned them in the first place. Exchanging blood was something she did with all of her toys. But in the end, she was the one to disappear. She moved on, and Damon felt that they were left to die. She knew they were creatures of the night; she could've trained them to be her most loyal follows. But she didn't.

All Damon needed to know about Katherine was that he didn't matter to her. It had been a mistake to chase after her for the greater part of a century. He would've loved her and never let her go, but she wasn't in the tomb. She never had any intentions of returning. Ever.

But Elena was vastly different. She didn't play games or try to be coy; she didn't try to make out with him when Stefan fell off the wagon. Elena was honorable and trustworthy - something he'd never forget. She saved his life - multiple times and in different ways. There was so much to thank her for.

Would Katherine ever look behind his shortcomings? Would Katherine ever console him when he hit the bottom?

The more the questions surfaced, the more he knew the truth. Katherine wasn't capable of love. Her vampiric lifestyle had ripped every last shred of humanity from within her. It was time Damon got over her. He had a friend in Elena. Maybe they were growing closer and deeper. He was sure the friend line would blur at some point, but Elena gave a damn.

That was all Damon needed to commit to being her friend.

She saw that he could be good even when he was maniacal and twisted. And broken.

The worst kind of vampire of all were the heartbroken kind. And Damon reeked of despair and loss of hope. There was nothing like a first love that was never reciprocated. It was something that would always cut into him. He'd never forget the way she messed with his head, the way she had ripped about what good he had left over the years.

Damon couldn't walk down that path, again. He had done it one time, but never again. With Katherine, it wasn't entirely love. It was obsession and the thrill of having someone other than his brother and father in his life.

Could he love again?

It was a loaded question, the kind that left him wide awake at night, draining bottle after bottle of scotch. He thought about how Elena had this undeniable pull over him, and how he couldn't sleep at night until he knew she was safe.

Long after Elena was asleep, Damon would end up in her room, watching her. He didn't touch or caress her face like he had done those many months ago. Instead, he'd just sit on her bed for hours, staring at the contours of her face and the way her lips were curved into the slightest of smiles. And Damon would grin slightly, just happy that she was having pleasant dreams when Katherine was lurking in Mystic Falls.

As soon as he was sure she was okay and safe, he disappeared just as quickly as he came.

But no matter how much his feelings changed, the sad truth was that Elena Gilbert belonged with Stefan. He was the reliable, white knight. Damon couldn't promise to always do or say the right thing. Stefan was predictable, easier to trust. And he couldn't blame Elena for making the safe choice.

Damon couldn't be her Prince Charming.

All he could offer to Elena was himself, complete with his baggage of flaws and mistakes. With Damon, Katherine would be nipping at his heels, ready to self-destruct any human relationships he tried to forge. The more he thought of it, the more he didn't want to risk it.

He had to make a big gesture; he had to get Katherine's attention. And when he did, he'd lure her out of town - even if it meant he could never go back. He had to do something right to prove to Stefan that there was something inside of him. But most of all, he had to prove to Elena how much he cared about her. She was too special for cheesy, over said three-word phrases. She needed more than that, and leaving was the only way he could accomplish that.

Because, at night, before he drifted off into a restless sleep, all Damon could think about was how she deserved so much better (and more) than him.

* * *

**This is my first foray into the world of fan fiction in a few years. I haven't done much writing, so I apologize if this is rough around the edges. Some events from the finale were purposely left out as I tried to focus on only a few areas. If you like this, would you like to see it turned into a multi-chaptered story? Something with action and dialog and not limited to the musings and thoughts of a character? Any feedback at all would be absolutely wonderful. Thank you in advance to anyone who reads this. -Andrea**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

The electricity of warm, soft skin touching his forearm ripped Damon from his overwhelming thoughts of his past and Katherine. His icy blue eyes fluttered open, taking in the room with tacky floral wallpaper and chairs lined up against the walls of the room. The TV in the corner blared _Jerry Springer_, and Damon winced.

He knew he should have been looking for Katherine, but with Stefan MIA, he couldn't leave Elena unprotected. There was no knowing what his crazy ex had planned. If it was anything, it was probably a million times more diabolical than anything he could dream up. The sudden attack of John Gilbert, while justified in Damon's eyes, was either the doing of Katherine or Isobel. And as much as he wanted to damn Isobel into the worst afterlife imaginable, it was too cold and callous to be her grand scheme.

The stench reeked of Katherine. John was probably a loose end that needed to be tied up. Besides, Katherine was pretty good at deserting those that no longer posed a use. But still, what did she have to gain out of killing John Gilbert? No matter how long he thought of it, none of it made the least bit of sense.

"Damon?" Her soft voice spoke, delicate and fragile. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Peachy keen."

"It's not a bad thing to show your true feelings," Elena told him quietly. "You're not a monster."

As long as he was a creature of the night, Damon would be as much a monster as Stefan. But he appreciated her sullen attempt to get a real response out of him, but Damon would be damned if he let his guard down enough to show emotion again.

Elena had no idea of his speech on the porch, of the way he pulled her close and smashed his lips against hers. There was so much passion and power and emotion in that kiss. He knew he couldn't lose control of his switch; he had to pull away. It was time to rebuild the walls, and time to forget about about what this girl meant to him. He had to be objective and track Katherine. As long as the bitch was back in town, he couldn't risk a deeper connection with Elena. Her life was already in too much danger, and Damon knew he'd never live with himself if he got sloppy and overwhelmed with emotion. He had to protect her. Acting like a lovesick puppy would hinder that process.

Damon licked his lips. "Have you heard from Stefan?"

Elena shook her head. "His phone keeps going straight to voice mail."

He swore under his breath. "I told him not to go looking for your brother by himself. But does Stefan ever listen to a word I say? No. He's too self-righteous for that."

Elena exhaled sharply. "I hope Jeremy's okay," she whispered, her resolve breaking. "With John..."

"As much as I hate giving Stefan any credit, he has a knack for finding people," Damon reassured her. "Jeremy is fine. Don't worry."

Elena sighed softly and wrapped her arms around her chest. Her eyes started to water, and she struggled to find the strength to keep her composure. She refused to be a weak girl that needed to be coddled like a baby.

"Maybe you're right. I just want him to be here with me; safe."

"I told him about Anna." He admitted. "This is my fault."

Elena gasped. "Why?"

"I wanted to give him a choice this time," he explained, his voice barely above a whisper. The intensity in his eyes rippled like waves at high tide. "He's been through so much."

She eyed him suspiciously. "I thought you don't like Jeremy. What's with the sudden change of heart?"

He shrugged. "He's tolerable. A little too whiny and melodramatic, but he's _your _brother. If he matters to you, he matters to me."

"I told you're capable of caring." She forced a smile, tapping his arm with her elbow.

"I never said I wasn't capable, Elena. I only said I choose not to care."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Damon. But I don't think you're half bad. You're not the worst company in the world, and you're being a true friend to me. You don't understand how much that means."

"Yeah, yeah. No need to get mushy on me."

"I mean it," she stressed, her dark brown eyes staring him down. "I appreciate what you're doing."

Damon shrugged weakly and stretched out his legs. His muscles were cramped from sitting too long. For a fleeting moment, he thought about going to the boarding house for a late breakfast, but he couldn't leave Elena unguarded. There wasn't a single soul he trusted with her life - not even Alaric. And he hated, no despised, how it felt like a part of his soul was connected to hers. It was becoming increasingly harder to fight the surges of emotions and warmth he had for her.

This Damon wasn't him. Deep down, he was a monster.

"I'm not doing anything a friend wouldn't do. Bonnie would be here if she could."

Elena's expression became pained as she thought about her witch best friend, and how their lives changed in the span of a year.

"Bonnie and I are on two different paths, Damon. She made it perfectly clear that she wants _nothing _to do with vampires. I love her and always will, but the moment she made me choose between you and Stefan and her, I knew I was losing her."

There was such a cold edge to her tone. The last time he heard her so angry and upset it was when Stefan killed Vicki and Damon had to clean up the mess. Elena had been fearless - even then. She blamed him for so much, but even then, she detected that something human was buried within him.

_It matters and you know it._

The truth was: it always mattered. Having a diabolical plot just covered up what he was trying to accomplish.

In a rare moment of sympathy, Damon put his left hand over hers and grasped her fingers delicately. It was hell fighting the urge to touch her shoulder when he knew that too much comforting would only further complicate the already volatile situation. The fingers on his right hand curled into his palm, squeezing into an iron fist, and he removed the left hand from on top of hers instantly.

Sooner or later, Elena Gilbert would be the death of him.

"Why don't you try to sleep?" Damon urged gently, trying to forget about how much he wanted to feel her smooth, warm skin again. He clenched his teeth tightly together. "The second I hear from Stefan or Jeremy, I'll wake you. Okay?"

She nodded. Damon's strong, steady words provided her the relief she craved at that moment. Elena hated being the weak girl that needed protection and comfort, but just like Damon, they couldn't be perfectly unfeeling and strong all the time. "Thank you," she murmured, eyes squeezed shut and added softly, "Damon."

Within minutes, she was fast asleep, her head inches from finding comfort against his shoulder. And Damon couldn't find the strength to push her away as her head slumped against his arm, her warmth radiating through his cold body.

That night, his own words began to haunt him: d_oesn't it always come down to the love of a woman._

**XOXO**

It was early morning with streaks of sunlight brightening the dull waiting area.

The surrounding white hallways were endless and deserted like a ghost town. There wasn't a doctor, nurse, or any signs of life within the immediate radius and Damon sighed in complete boredom. The more he sat with nothing to distract him from replaying the night's events in his head, the more the hospital accelerated his jittery nerves.

It became a dungeon for a muse that had nothing more to do than mull over forbidden words. What could Damon do besides wait it out? Sooner or later, a doctor would come bounding through the door and announce John Gilbert's fate. But until that happened, Damon realized he was surrounded by 'what ifs' and the terror of the unknown. The situation was too far out of his hands.

And Damon was beginning to understand why humans felt so useless and helpless at times like these. It made him wish he was back at the boarding house, alone, and draining their extravagant collection of liquor straight from the bottle. Alcohol effectively quelled the guilt building up inside of him.

Scowling, Damon shifted in the chair, his arm beginning to ache from the lack of blood flow. Elena slept like the dead, a solid five hours of sleep. He smiled softly at the fact that she wasn't a restless sleeper with flailing arms and legs. Instead, Damon became achingly aware of how much she craved protection and security during sleep. Her head was pressed hard into the side of his shoulder, and her left hand was on top of his.

Her fingertips brushed against his skin when she shifted slightly, a soft moan escaping from between her red, chapped lips. And when she moved, Damon drank in her dizzying scent in desperation. His days of being this close to Elena were numbered, and even though he knew it was best to put some distance between them, he didn't want to. Damon didn't have the heart to wake her up - not even when she shifted, her head moving towards his chest.

A Sleeping Elena was better than a Hysterical Elena he tried to convince himself. No matter how many times he repeated the words like a broken mantra, it didn't change how deeply connected he was to her.

Damon broke his gaze from her peaceful face and muttered a string of curses under his breath.

"Fantastic timing," Damon mumbled to himself as he eyes darted towards the emergency exit. Alaric and Jenna stepped foot into the hospital, worry and fear drowning their faces.

Dealing with Bonnie or Matt or Tyler was looking more appealing than dealing with the so-called 'authority figures'.

It wouldn't be a quick 1,2,3 to get rid of either of them - at least, not where Elena was concerned.

Jenna stepped in front of Alaric, shock registering across her face as she saw how cozy her niece was with Damon. Sensing the tension, Alaric grabbed her hand and threaded his fingers between hers.

"Don't worry about Damon." He heard Alaric reassure Jenna.

"I have plenty to worry about," was her concerned, clipped reply.

Damon let out a groan and tried to maneuver Elena. He really didn't want to wake her up, but Jenna was about to make the situation very complicated. He held his breath as the two stopped directly in front of him; he remembered Elena telling Jenna that he was an ass. Seeing him kiss his brother's girlfriend was going to be chock full of drama, he was sure of it. But it wasn't like he could admit that Elena had a doppelganger, could he?

"How's John?" Jenna asked immediately, tension lacing her words. If there was anyone who held a grudge against John, it was Jenna.

"No one's said much," he lied, hoping it would get her to step away for a few minutes. "The doctors and nurses seem rather enraptured by their social life this morning, wouldn't you say? It's too damn quiet in here."

Jenna's cheeks burned red. She stepped forward, rage flitting across her face as she raised a hand towards Damon; she faltered slightly, unnerved by his fierce expression. "How can you crack a joke at a time like this?"

Alaric winced and slung his arm across her shoulder, pulling Jenna to him. His hand rubbed the side of her arm gently.

"Where's Stefan?" He asked, his eyes darting across the empty waiting room.

"Not here," was Damon's vague response. "Something important came up last night."

Jenna's eyes narrowed into slits. "I bet he found out, didn't he?" She accused, fire burning in her eyes. "And I thought I was perfectly clear about you and Elena last night."

Damon swallowed thickly. Of course. He knew he couldn't avert the kiss. Jenna had stepped in at one of the worst possible moments. It was his weakest moment with the wrong girl. Was it something worth fighting? He contemplated apologizing to the frantic aunt in the dire hopes that she'd put the issue to bed. He _never _wanted Elena to know. _Ever_.

"There's nothing to worry about." He flashed her his dazzling smile.

"Sure." Jenna eyed him skeptically, unaffected by his charm. "It's just a coincidence that Stefan is out of town, then?"

Damon clenched his hands into fists. He never realized how inquisitive Jenna was when she was threatened. She was fiery, ready to speak her mind. She was the fire to Alaric's ice, and he realized how well they complemented one another.

"Something like that."

Jenna sighed heavily and shifted out of Alaric's grasp.

She looked well put together, and by the looks of the messenger bag across her shoulder, he deduced that she had been at class.

"How is Elena?" She continued to interrogate, her eyes never leaving Damon's.

"Coping."

"That's it?"

"She's slept most of the time." He shrugged. "Haven't had much time for stimulating conversation."

Jenna pursed her lips together. "Elena was right," she mumbled sourly. "You are an ass."

He grinned. "Never said I wasn't."

"Listen, I don't know what you've done to my niece, but if you hurt her in any way..."

He gave her a dry look and cut her off mid-sentence. "Does it really look like I'm trying to hurt Elena? Do the math."

"I _still _don't approve."

"Not many do, but hey, that's never stopped me before."

Jenna sighed in defeat, shaking her head at Damon before she walked off towards the nurses station.

_Finally_, Damon thought. _It was too easy to ruffle her feathers._

Alaric glared darkly at Damon; his forehead was slick with sweat, and his heartbeat doubled in speed. "Try to tone it down a bit. You're being insensitive."

"Jenna hates John, Ric. You and I both know she's here because of Elena." Damon smirked. "Tell me, is Jenna in the loop about John being her biological father or is that one more secret she withheld?"

Alaric's forehead creased. "Jenna is only honoring her sister's wishes. She's only protecting, Elena."

"Blah, blah, blah." He rolled his eyes. "She still lied. Elena deserves the truth."

The history teacher snorted. "And who are you to preach about truth Damon, you're not exactly a stand-up guy."

"Never lied, Ric. That's the difference between me and the rest of this damn town. I don't lie. I have no reason to."

"Come on, Damon. Your intentions aren't _that _pure. You can't tell me that you don't feel fulfilled with satisfaction when you slip the truth and ruin someone's life."

"The truth is the truth. And I'll tell it as much as I damn well please. Don't give me a lesson because I'm telling you right now...I don't care."

Alaric's shoulders stiffened. "Fine. Be an ass, but I thought you were a little better than this."

Damon shrugged. "Don't care," he sang sarcastically. "I'm not Stefan."

"You're not." Alaric laughed dryly. "But where is your brother? I thought he'd be here?"

"Tracking down the youngest Gilbert. Apparently Jeremy thought it was a good idea to disappear." Damon released a jagged breath, annoyed to explain everything again. "That damn kid is nothing but trouble."

Alaric laughed at Damon's sudden realization. He had spent enough time as a teacher for high school history students to know the roller coaster and whiplash teenagers put everyone through. "Come on, vampire. You remember what it's like to be a teenager, right? Their angst and drama is worse than their hormones."

Damon shrugged. "Okay, I give. What are you doing here and why are you trying to make nice?"

"Watch your tongue," the history teacher quipped. "I have a vervain dart in my ass pocket and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Ooo, such idle threats. Should I be scared?" Damon taunted.

Alaric shook his head, dropping into the seat next to Elena. His eyes filled with concern. "How is John?" He asked, ignoring Damon's snide remarks.

"Life support," Damon mouthed, not wanting to stir her. "He won't last a week."

Curiosity got the best of Alaric. He ran a hand through his hair and asked, "Who do you think attacked him?"

"Katherine," Damon muttered between clenched teeth. Her message, written in John's blood, chilled him to the very core.

"As in your vampire girlfriend?"

Damon shot Alaric a deadly look. "Ex, Ric. Ex girlfriend."

"Okay, so why would your ex vampire girlfriend show up in town to kill Jonathan Gilbert?"

Damon's eyes fell to a peacefully sleeping Elena. Her hair was sticking up in every which direction, and he instantly smoothed the fly aways down, forgetting just how intimate it was. "I imagine because of her."

Alaric was stunned, absolutely floored how such a vicious, maniacal vampire had turned around. When Damon thought no one was looking, he would stare at her longingly. And Ric didn't miss them...or Damon's small gestures. When Damon smoothed down her hair and looked at her so tenderly, Alaric knew for sure that Damon was completely in tune with his humanity whether he chose to believe it or not.

_You're so in love with her_, Alaric thought to himself.

"So how long have you been in love with her?" Alaric asked conversationally, speaking the words that were dancing around his head.

"I'm not," was his stiff reply. "Stop trying to make something out of nothing. Stefan's the one in love with her. Not me, Ric."

Alaric rolled his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, but I know love when I see it."

Damon growled. "Maybe you should've become a guidance teacher. You're so good at prying into everyone's personal business. I think the job would suit you, no?"

"If you say so, Damon. How about you take my job since you're the expert on History repeating itself?"

Damon's eyes darkened, shifting into a hellish combination of red and blue. Black veins rose to the surface underneath his eyelids. His fangs slid out of his gums. One by one, his muscles tensed as anger coursed through his body. He was going to attack.

Alaric got to his feet and took a hesitant step backwards. His hand instinctively reached to his back pocket, knowing that he could take Damon down in seconds with the vervain dart. His fingers gripped onto it tightly.

"Hey," Alaric started, a sheen of sweat trickling down his forehead, "It was all in good fun. Calm yourself or you'll have this dart faster in your chest than you can imagine."

"Stupid," Damon muttered, fighting for control. "Baiting a vampire with their less-than-finer moments is a total dick move, Ric." His eyes were still dark, but Damon felt the veins beneath his eyes start to recede.

At that moment, Elena shifted against his chest, her body practically in Damon's lap. She whimpered and grabbed part of his shirt in her fist. "Damon," she cried out, body shaking.

His hand went to her forehead. She was clammy and burning up. "Elena," he whispered, gently nudging her shoulder. The longer he stared at her, the more the monster calmed within him. "Elena," he repeated, his tone urgent and pleading. "Wake up."

She started to stir, her eyes flickering open and closed until they were adjusted to the blinding white light. Elena lifted her head, her eyes full of tears as she stared into Damon's mesmerizing blue orbs. A light blush crept onto her cheeks as she realized the compromising situation they were in.

"I don't think Stefan would approve of this little situation," Damon teased.

Elena blushed again, moving out of his lap until she was completely back in her chair. She felt dizzy with the migraine pounding against her skull. Falling back asleep sounded like a great idea.

"Did Stefan call?" She asked Damon, hope in her words.

Damon's eyes narrowed into slits. "No. He's not returning my calls."

Elena trembled in her seat, worry emanating from her body. Almost losing Stefan once was hard enough, but if he was in danger, how could she help? She needed to be at the hospital, waiting on pins and needles, until she knew how her biological father was doing. Maybe Jonathan robbed her of a proper childhood, at least he left her in the care of the most loving parents she ever knew; maybe everything he had done - just like Damon - was out of love.

"Do you think he was kidnapped..."

"Don't even finish that sentence," Damon interrupted. He got to his feet and stared at Alaric. "He's probably at the boarding house. Maybe his cell died. Hell, would you feel better if I sent Ric to find him? After he drops off Jenna first, of course."

Elena's expression faltered. "Jenna came with Mr. Saltzman?"

The teacher stepped out of the shadows. "I offered to pick her up after class. She has a final this afternoon, so she can't stay very long."

"Where is she?" Elena asked, her voice cracking as she looked around the hospital. After the day she had been through, she wanted family at her side. With Jeremy elsewhere, Jenna was all she had. And it killed Elena on the inside to know how much she needed her aunt.

"Went to find out more info on John," Damon cut in. "She's a bit...testy today."

"Sounds like you left a lasting impression." Elena studied Damon's face carefully. She wasn't surprised.

He flashed her a smile. "The only kind of impressions worth leaving."

She sighed. "I guess I'm not surprised." A speech was on the tip of her tongue, but she was too tired to recite it. And Damon wouldn't appreciate it. Brewing a storm wasn't on her agenda. She just wanted to get through the day as painlessly as possible, but she struggled to get John and Jeremy out of her head. No amount of sleep lessened the worry she was feeling. But still, she fought against the weakness, knowing that strength was her ticket to coping and getting through this hellish nightmare.

"I'll grab Jenna on the way out. Get some rest, Elena," Alaric told her gently.

"I'd rather see her now." Elena got to her feet, eyes narrowed.

Alaric stiffened. "I think, as long as Damon's present, that you should avoid her until later."

"I'm not leaving," Damon growled at Alaric. "Sorry Ric."

"I'm going to talk to my aunt. I have that right, and neither of you are stopping me." Elena winced at her harsh tone. "Sorry Mr. Saltzman..."

Alaric waved the white flag by throwing his hands to the air in silent defeat. That was what Elena liked about her history teacher. He knew when to let go. But Damon...

"You should sleep," Damon suggested. He was worried about protecting his secret; he couldn't risk Jenna exposing the truth about what happened on that porch. "No offense, but you look like you were rolling around in the dirt like an itchy dog."

"You're such an ass," Elena snapped. "Comparing me to a dog? Great analogy, Damon. I'm so glad to see that this whole situation hasn't made you any less snarky."

"Don't fret so much, Elena." He grinned and eye flirted with her. "You know you love my dashing good looks, my charm, and my undeniably sexy wit."

"Only in your dreams," Elena deadpanned, shifting to her other foot. "I'm going to see Jenna. Be nice."

Her eyes met Damon's smoldering expression, and she shivered at how deeply they penetrated her soul. Thousands of tingles erupted from her body as if she were supercharged. It was a foreign feeling, something that caught her off guard.

One thing was for certain: those eyes were going to be the death of her.

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**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any of the lines that are from the TV series. They belong to the creative writing geniuses behind the show: Julie Plec and Kevin Williamson!

**Note: **It was very difficult to continue this in story format from the first chapter. I had to change up the style to make dialog and a story format work. For the record, I love Damon/Alaric banter. It's probably one of my favorite things to write. Oh and don't forget to review. If something didn't work, or I missed something, feel free to let me know. Or if you like what you're reading, please review and let me know.

AND A HUGE THANKS TO ALL OF THE WONDERFUL REVIEWERS OF THE FIRST CHAPTER. Your encouraging reviews helped make this quick update possible.


	3. Chapter 3

_**chapter 3**_

By the next morning, Damon was ready to never set foot in another hospital again. He was hostile, tired, and hungry - not to mention, he was antsy. Sitting around idle and waiting was becoming a colossal waste of his time.

Jonathan Gilbert was _still _kicking, and Damon couldn't help but think how unfortunate it was for the vampire hunter to be alive. He had zero use for the humans who were adamant to exterminate his kind. Maybe it was just a simple means to an end, but John tried to kill him, leaving him for dead in a burning basement. And then he staked Anna to prove he was superior, that he was working the puppet strings.

Damon felt acid rising in his throat.

If he ever crossed paths with the man doing Katherine's bidding, he'd rip him into shreds after sucking him dry; slowly. Despite the fact that it was Elena's biological father, he couldn't seem to find a way to care or a way to forget.

That's what Damon didn't understand about humans. Most of them were vindictive, unforgiving, and only out to save their own skin. But then there was Elena who cared more about those around her than herself. She didn't take betrayals or lies well, so why was she so eager to forgive John?

_Humans are idiots_, he thought to himself.

Before Stefan vanished in search of Jeremy, the brothers decided, together, that they'd keep a vigil watch over Elena. Of course Damon let it slip that the bane of their human existence was back. And they made a promise that Elena was above all else.

Katherine couldn't be trusted. She couldn't be taken lightly. She was a very powerful vampire with plenty of supernatural allies. If she had an opportunity to surprise and take down Elena, she would.

Which was how Damon ended up at the hospital, miserable and agitated. The last thing he needed was inadvertently finding a way to piss off Stefan by leaving Elena alone for _any _period of time. It would be an anger that rivaled Stefan going on his human blood bender.

Protecting her was his mission now. Stefan made him promise to guard her with his life. And Damon didn't make promises he didn't intend to keep.

Stressed and struggling through a lack of decent sleep, Damon leaned against a candy-filled vending machine, his eyes trained onto the waiting room. Elena sat there, somberly and quietly, watching a ridiculous soap opera full of scandal, lies, deceit, and unexpected tragedies. He cocked his head to the side, a curious expression on his face as he tried to gauge what she was thinking and feeling.

Sure, he had spent over a century living around humans, but he was out of touch with them. So many years of being a vampire made it too easy to forget how to be human.

"Elena," he sighed, heaviness lingering in his tone, "you can't keep doing this."

Though the words were spoken out loud, Damon felt betrayed by them. He felt like a lovesick puppy lusting and wanting someone he couldn't have; he had to bury this human emotions deep before they consumed him.

Groaning, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a handful of change. He emptied eighty five cents into the coffee machine, his eyes watching as a cup dropped to the bottom and black, fresh coffee poured from the nozzle.

Damon wrinkled his nose. He absolutely, without a doubt, detested coffee, but he was _always _prepared; he had just the perfect addition. As the coffee stopped one third from the rim of the cup, Damon skillfully looked around the vending machine room and the surrounding ER floor before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver flask.

Stefan would lecture on him having a drink so early. But hell, if his brother could divulge in a little human blood, what was wrong with Damon enjoying his favorite brand and age of scotch?

"Hypocrite," Damon sneered.

His hand squeezed the cup too tightly and dark black sloshed over the edge of the paper cup, the scolding liquid splashing against his skin as it dropped to the floor.

Damon sidestepped the puddle he created, ready to rejoin Elena when he spotted a doctor walking towards her.

"Might as well prepare for the shit to hit the fans," Damon muttered to himself as he took a sip of coffee. The taste of alcohol brought a grin to his lips as he stayed by the vending machines, watching the waiting room from afar.

He hoped today was the day they'd get knowledge on John and be able to return home. That way, Damon wouldn't be tempted to pay the backstabbing vampire hunter a visit during the middle of the night. Resisting that temptation was cruel and unusual punishment, even for Damon.

Damon sighed as he saw Elena's shoulders droop. Why did her emotions get to him so badly? She was just his brother's girlfriend who was the mirror image of Katherine.

"...he's in a coma. The blood loss and trauma was to great. I'm sorry," the doctor apologized, sincerity leaking through his words. "We induced the coma to help stabilize his condition."

"Will he wake up?" Elena asked.

Damon's lips upturned. For a human, she had the fiercest mental strength he had ever encountered. He respected how her words didn't compromise her feelings. She was awfully good at hiding how she felt, and that was something Damon could relate to.

He listened closer.

"His brain activity is very minimal. There's a possibility he might regain some motor skills with some new treatments and intense physical therapy. But I can't promise this," the doctor explained.

"You mean he's a vegetable?"

The doctor nodded. "I'm sorry Ms. Gilbert. I wish I had better news." He forced a somber smile, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder before ambling towards the nurses station.

Elena stood perfectly still, tears shimmering in her eyes. But she refused to let a single tear fall, to let Damon or anyone else see that she wasn't quite as strong as she looked.

Even if she didn't know this Jonathan Gilbert, she really didn't want to lose a father all over again. And just when she felt her body begging for release, Damon was at her side, his hand on the small of her back and steadying her as she swayed.

"Time to go?"

Elena managed a weak nod. All words escaped her in that moment.

"Finally," Damon grinned triumphantly. "This place is too damn depressing. How can a vampire have any fun around here?"

"I'm not in the mood to amuse you, Damon," Elena muttered in a scratchy tone. "I just want to go home right now."

"Fine, fine. Don't get your panties all twisted up in a bunch."

She stared at him dully, face expressionless. "Is that really the best you can do?"

"Give me a little credit," he teased lightly, teeth exposed from a wide smile. "I'm full of original lines, but I can't give them all up at once, can I?"

Elena's resolve was crumbling. Stretch echoed in her voice, but the truth spoke volumes through her eyes.

"If you're trying to distract me, you're failing miserably."

"I'm too selfish to distract you. Sorry." He gave her a bright smile. "And besides, I _don't _fail and I'm _not _miserable."

Elena stared at him dryly. "I'd beg to differ."

"Damn." Damon whistled. "Do I detect a little bite and malice in those words Ms. Gilbert?"

She fought against rolling her eyes, but she couldn't mask the tiny smile before Damon caught it.

"Sense of humor in tact." He let out a whoosh of air. "Thank God, Elena. You worried me there for a second. I thought you were turning into The Broody One."

Elena smacked his arm. She didn't not want to smile - not like this. John was laying in bed, unconscious, and probably never going to recover. He was as good as dead, and it killed her how one witty comment from Damon made her forget how bad things really were.

"Don't be an ass. He's your only brother."

"Speaking of your white knight, has he called you back?"

The fear crept around her as she shook her head, her eyes dropping towards the floor. "No."

"Hmm." Damon tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I'll give him until the end of the week before I send out the cavalry."

He tilted his head towards to the right, urging her to follow him forward.

Elena just stared as a flash of Damon moving his head the same way entered her head. It was when he decided she'd join him to Georgia, and she begged him to pull over. She had been wary of trusting him, and unsure why he wanted her company.

Damon Salvatore wasn't the type of vampire who kept friends. Yet, her brain was hard wired to reminisce the moment as if they were friends, as if it were important.

_Can I trust you?_

_Get in the car. Come on._

Trust. Elena, who was a lot like Damon in the trust regard, found it hard to have blind faith in someone she didn't know well. Stefan shared stories about who Damon was and what he wanted, but Elena always had the prickling feeling that there was more than just her boyfriends side of the story.

When she froze in place, Damon nudged her to keep walking. Elena shuffled her feet, barely having the energy to move. She needed time to sleep and time to process.

"Calvary?" She finally asked, curious about where Damon had acquired an army since he didn't leave the best impressions.

"Yes. Me and Ric."

"How is two people a cavalry, Damon?"

He shrugged. "It isn't. But you have to admit, it sounds more bad ass that way, doesn't it?"

She stiffled a laugh. "Poor Mr. Saltzman. I don't know how he puts up with you for so long."

"Oh, you know. I _do _possess redeeming qualities, Elena."

"I know." Her shoulder bumped into his as they stepped outside, the fresh air hitting her in a welcomed gust. "You're not the big bad wolf."

He quirked a brow, staring at cloudless sky. "Not even if Stefan insists?"

"Not even," she reaffirmed, her eyes looking straight ahead.

Elena's vision lingered on the vast horizon, knowing she couldn't turn to look at Damon. If she did, she'd be doomed. Battling her inner demons about Stefan was enough of a challenge. Sure, she had fleeting thoughts where she wondered where he was or why he didn't call, but for someone she loved so much, she found it harder to be concerned where Stefan had ran off to, or what trouble he had gotten himself into.

For many months, Stefan had been the center of her universe. He was the air she breathed; he was her everything. Elena was entirely consumed with Stefan, but a few days with Damon, and he wasn't at the forefront of her mind.

**XOXO**

What was happening to her?

Damon's phone rang on the drive back to Elena's. He welcomed the distraction, seeing as Elena fell fast asleep, her head propped against the window. Deciding against the radio, on the off chance that it would stir her, he drove in silence. And the silence was when all of Damon's thoughts and fears surfaced from the darkest recesses of his mind.

"Ric," Damon chirped happily. "You better be calling with good news."

"That might depend on your definition of good, Damon."

"Right. Way to be vague, teacher. Would it kill you to elaborate? I have many perks to being a vampire, but a mind reader isn't one of them."

Alaric cleared his throat. "Glad to see you're still an active advocate for being an ass."

"Oh Ric, no need to be so dramatic. I'm just lightening the mood." He jeered. "You should try it sometime. Great stress reducer."

"Cut it with the jokes," Alaric snapped at Damon. "Your dry humor can't fix everything...like what I've found out."

Damon crinkled his forehead. "Enough teasing," he snipped. "I'm just about at Elena's house. Care to spill the beans? Or maybe you'd prefer a rendezvous point in a heavily wooded area?"

"Mystic Grill. Ten minutes." Alaric demanded, his tone stony. "Oh and leave your humor at the door. Thanks."

The line disconnected. Damon grinned. At least he wasn't losing his touch.

**XOXO**

The Mystic Grill was quiet and nearly deserted. A few regulars hung at the bar, laughing and drinking, but Damon felt the change in the air. It reeked of fear and hopelessness.

The room was drenched in a thick veil of supercharged evil.

Word about the fire spread throughout the small community. People were buzzing with gossip, worried if an arsonist or old, faulty wiring at the building was to blame. And ever since the word of Mayor Lockwood's death spread, Damon noticed the dark-rooted fear in people's eyes.

In his opinion, they had a lot more than a fire bug and a dead mayor to worry about.

"Damon."

He tensed, nostrils flaring, and froze mid step. "Bonnie," he drawled flatly. "To what do I owe this most joyous pleasure?"

Her eyes were dark, filled with fire. "Don't forget what I'm capable of, Damon."

"Oh I haven't," he responded dryly. "This mess is on your hands."

She shrugged. "Maybe. I stopped the tomb vampires by making the necessary sacrifices. It's a lot more than you or your brother have done."

"I've gone above and beyond for this town, sweetheart. Don't pin this on me and Stefan. You're the one who couldn't properly seal the tomb in the first place. So the tomb vampires were your fault, witch."

"Don't you dare," she hissed violently, stepping closer to him. A darkness, like a vortex to evil, swirled in her eyes. "Who insisted on finding a long lost love that didn't even care about you? Because it wasn't me."

"Ouch. That burned, Bonnie," he mocked. "But as much as I enjoy your scintillating company, I'm afraid I have business matters to attend. Fortunately for you, you're not the person I'm here to see." His smile grew. "Reassuring, isn't it?"

Bonnie eyed him coolly. "No. Don't you dare walk away. You're getting the same speech I gave to your brother, and if I trust you, I'll back off."

"And if I don't give a shit about your speech?"

Her smile was grim, sinister even. "You'll get a taste of what I've learned while I was gone. I won't take you out quick and painless. I'll make it hurt until you beg to die, because I'll kill you before anyone else in this town is _ever _hurt again."

"As touching as your concern is for the many denizens of this fine town, I think I'll pass."

"You will agree to my terms," Bonnie snarled through gritted teeth. "I'm no longer hiding behind what I really am. I don't trust you, and after Stefan's little blood lust show, I'm not about to let either of you have a free pass in this town."

Damon snorted, sidestepping her. She was a tiny thing, hardly threatening.

"I. Said. Listen."

The lights in the grill flickered before turning black. In the darkness, Damon saw Bonnie's hands in the air. She was muttering words softly, probably a spell, and just as he was about to grab her elbow and break her out of the trance, the bar was flooded with light.

A few employee's and patrons looked shook up, but in moments they got back to what they were doing. It was such a natural reaction-as if the scene hadn't happened. Damon let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding.

"Witch hocus pocus? Really Bonnie?" Damon's tone was patronizing. "Advertising your...abilities in public will only work to your disadvantage. So I'm warning you one _more _time. Don't fuck with me. You've tried my patience over your trick with Jonathan's device. I'm not willing to bargain with your lying, witchy ass again. Capische?"

Dark eyes filled with malice stared back, begging him to defy her, and begging him to make a move.

"I won't argue about taking you out. Watch your back, Salvatore," she warned. All lit candles at the tables went out simultaneously. "I'll know the second you spill human blood."

Damon gave her a defiant look. "I don't abide by Stefan's orders. I'm not about to start with you. Now, if you're done with the useless interrogation, will you get the hell out my way? You're wasting my time."

He stepped around her, but she stepped in front of him. Her strong, cold expression remained, burning holes through the back of his head.

"This is your _only _warning," she told him tempestuously. "No exceptions. Not even if Elena defends you."

Shaking his head, he barked out a laugh. "Elena has no reason to defend my actions."

"She does. Don't think I didn't see you dancing with her, Damon. All of us saw the way you were looking at her. I saw the way you stood in front of her when Stefan went off the rails. Don't deny that she has just as strong, if not stronger, alliance with you. So don't bring her in the middle of this, Damon. I'll do whatever I have to - to protect this town."

Damon was furious with clenched hands. In his eyes, there was nothing rectifiable with what Bonnie Bennett was doing. All of the power and the lust for vengeance with her grandmother would get the best of her. She'd become corrupted. As much as he wanted to have even an iota of faith in her, Bonnie wasn't Sheila. The circumstances changed everything.

"Your lack of loyalty to your best friend is sickening. How can you betray Elena?"

Bonnie lifted her shoulders in a careless shrug. "This is bigger than Elena. Trust me, Damon. The next time we cross paths, you'll be joining the underworld. Fair enough, right?" With a cool, evil smile, she brushed into his shoulder hard enough that he swayed slightly.

He thought about reaching out, grabbing her elbow, and ordering how betraying the people she cared about was any kind of justification for saving a small town.

"Screw that superhero bullshit," Damon hissed. "You don't have to be a hero to do good."

The adrenaline pumped through his veins like fire. He was completely worked up, the kind of tension that was only put at ease by hunting.

Damon sashayed towards the bar, slipping onto the stool in fluid motion besides a quiet, stricken Alaric.

The bartender, a new, pretty girl with red curls stood in front of Damon. She smiled widely, drying a glass. "What can I get for you?"

"Scotch on the rocks." The throbbing in his temple continued. "Make it a double instead."

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**Note**: I love all of you so freaking much! I only combed over this once for errors, so I apologize if it's a little rougher than normal. I usually edit a chapter a few times before posting, but I didn't so I could get this up tonight. (I am too much of a perfectionist.) The plan is to update at least once a week and to finish this up before the fall.

If anything you read doesn't jive, as always, please be sure to let me know. Or if you just loved it and want more, let me know too. Next chapter will be up in a few days...or less, depending on how cooperate the muse is. :)


	4. Chapter 4

_**chapter 4**_

The air was thick, reeking of stale cigarette smoke, and Damon was aware of why he drank at the house; alone. Drowning in heartbreak, misery, and everything in between, Damon didn't want a flicker of emotion to escape from within the walls of the boarding house.

But today, along with a few exceptions, he felt a drink wouldn't show too much of his true self. It was just a few drinks, a perfect distraction from his confrontation with the little witch. Bonnie had successfully put a wrench in his plans, and he'd be damned if he lost his composure over someone so worthless and cunning. He worked too hard to let someone as insignificant as Bonnie ruin things.

Damon grabbed his drink from the pretty bartender, smiled politely, and drained half the scotch in one gulp, the alcohol burning all the way down. He closed his eyes, in a rare moment of broken down walls, and relished in the feeling. It were these rare moments that he pretended he was still alive and capable of experiencing the full effects of alcohol.

With scotch pumping through his body, it helped to tone down the anger he was feeling for Bonnie. But while it curbed the intensity, it didn't erase how much he wished the little witch was either dead or in another time zone.

"Looks like that wasn't the warm reception you were expecting."

The words startled Damon. They weren't words that Alaric would use. He was just a history teacher thinking he would become the next Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

"Bonnie Bennett is a bitch," Damon snarled, his eyes lingering on the shelves of expensive, aged liquor. "I wasn't expecting anything less than what she dished out."

Alaric shook his head and took a sip of beer. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated at the last moment; he knew the risk of pushing the vampire beyond his limits. The hospital had been enough of a demonstration.

"She's so different," Alaric reflected, remembering the old Bonnie he taught history to. "Without her grandmother, who's going to teach her control?"

And just like that, Alaric spoke the words that had been eating at Damon's mind for days.

"No one," Damon snapped coldly, suddenly furious that he couldn't voice his concerns so easily. "Bonnie can't be trusted right now. There's no one to guide her through this transition in her life. I'm not saying she's a villain Ric, but the power of magic has a strong hold on her. She feels different now."

"Or maybe the magic is bringing out how she really feels."

"Smart deduction," Damon muttered, waving down the bartender for another drink. He needed something with a little more bite - something like bourbon. "But now isn't the time to rely on maybe's and what ifs."

The bartender appeared, leaning forward, and exposing her cleavage at Alaric. For the past twenty minutes, she was hitting on him and laying it thick, but Alaric wasn't the type to play the field. Besides, if he had to play vampire slayer for Damon, it wasn't like he had the time to pursue his personal desires.

"Can I get you anything else, doll?" She drawled, in a silky smooth lithe as she slid Damon's drink across the bar top. It stopped right in front of him and he smiled.

"Another beer," was Alaric's disinterested response.

With that, he turned back to Damon who was sporting an amused look.

"The ladies love you," he taunted. "Isn't that cute?"

"They love fantasies," the teacher muttered uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of his shirt. "You know, those school girl fantasies."

"Oh I know," Damon chimed in. "But the question is why are you turning down a perfectly hot piece of ass, teach?"

"My heart belongs to another."

"Sickening and sweet. I should've figured you as the sappy, sentimental type. Tell me, is it your dear dead wife Isobel or the charming Jenna Sommers?"

"I'm not here to talk girls. I'm here to talk solutions."

Damon feigned hurt. "Aww, are you trying to get rid of me so soon?"

"Yes." Alaric sighed as the bartender set another beer in front of him. "I'm probably going to hell for siding with the wrong party. What am I thinking, anyway? Helping a vampire..."

"Well, if you were trying to win points to become the next Buffy, I'd say you're real behind. Probably in the negatives."

"Would you cut it with the pop culture references?" Alaric snapped, shooting Damon a look filled with malice. "I thought we were here to talk business, not to sit here and talk women."

"Well, you stared at her rack, Ricky. I was just making polite conversation about something that would interest both of us."

Alaric's shoulders slumped, showing defeat. "I'm not even going to respond to that, Damon. But I will tell you that you should tone down your excitement right now. Bonnie is outside, across the street, and she's watching you intently."

"I don't care about Bonnie," Damon snapped. Just the thought of her made his blood boil. He would rip off her head if he had the chance, but her powers would kill him before he reached her. "She's not stupid enough to do anything in public."

"...but if no one trains her, how can we say if she'll be smart or stupid with her magic?"

_"_We can't say." Damon stressed the words slowly. He couldn't count or rely on anyone, especially Bonnie. "But I'm very sure she won't hurt you or Elena..."

"Don't try and make me feel better." Alaric winced, taking a swig of beer before pounding it on the bar. "Forgive me if I'm a little out of sorts, Damon. The world of supernatural creatures hasn't exactly been easy for me to transition into, either."

_"_Excuses. All of you humans always have an excuse. Do you realize that?"

Alaric gave him a cold look. "I seem to know a vampire that uses his past as an excuse for his wrongdoings."

The teacher made a good point, but Damon wasn't going to tell him that. Instead, he flashed his cocky, signature grin and finished off the bourbon. "Now that I'm probably liquored up, Ric, why don't you tell me what was so important?"

"Jeremy called Jenna last night around 11." Alaric hesitated. "Jenna was upstairs, and I felt it wasn't fair that she was burdened with Jeremy. He sounded scared and weak. When I tried to ask where he was, the kid lost his nerve and hung up."And?" Damon waited. And waited.

"And that's it."

"Great job. I know exactly what I knew a minute ago. But I have to hand it to you, you sure know how to waste time."

Alaric sighed. "Listen, we didn't know if Jeremy is alive or dead. Now we know."

"Hello, Ric. Are you aware of the year? Jeremy overdosed with Anna's blood in his system. We can't rule out the possibility that he joined the dark side."

"Jeremy's not Anakin Skywalker turned Darth Vader. Quit it with the bad analogies."

"Ooo. The teacher is a little testy today."

"Testy doesn't cover it, Salvatore. If you want me help, shut up and listen."

"Who says I want your help, teacher?"

"Right now, it's not about what either of us wants, but what _needs _to be done. We both have people we care about and want to protect. Arguing isn't going to get either of us closer to an answer."

Damon propped his elbows onto the bar top. His mind was torn, unsure what his next move was going to be. And then there was Bonnie who put a kink in his plans. With a weighty sigh, Damon tilted his lead and looked at Alaric, showing for the first time just how tired and worn he really was.

"What do you propose?"

"Something you said gave me a great idea. Jeremy wouldn't leave home without his phone, right?"

He blinked. "Right. And?"

"Kids thrive on technology. Their cell phone is essentially an extension of who they are. So, why not track Jeremy's phone?"

"Great idea. Let me just run back to the boarding house and grab my tracking equipment."

Alaric gave him a warning look. "You're thick with the Sheriff. Make her an offer she can't refuse."

"The Sheriff is preoccupied, Ric. Plus, this is Mystic Falls not NYC."

"Hey, it was just an idea. If you have a better one, please do share."

Damon frowned, a sour expression on his face. "I hate it when you're right, Saltzman."

He dropped a few bills on the bar. Sliding off of the stool effortlessly, Damon gave the vampire hunter a slight smile. All in all, Alaric Saltzman wasn't terrible company.

"Try to dig up more information on Stefan and Jeremy."

Alaric frowned. "And how would you like me to do that, Damon?"

"You're resourceful. Put that history degree to good use."

And with that, Damon sauntered out of the front door. Just as Alaric said, Bonnie stood across the street, her eyes dark and dangerous and focused directly on Damon. The witch was proving to be of little use, and he was sorely tempted to find a way to take her out or remove her powers, but as long as the amulet hung around her neck, Damon knew that Bonnie Bennett was a threat that no one could afford to forget about.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, challenging her by staring hard.

"If you stay on your side, I'll stay on mine." He paused. "For now."

A light wind rippled through the downtown, blowing Bonnie's hair into a frizzy mess. Damon couldn't deny that she looked positively evil, ready to blast him into smithereens.

"Okay, okay," Damon added, wincing slightly, his hands raised in surrender. "Cool it with the special effects. Right now, I have bigger problems, and you're just delaying their resolution. Later, Bennet."

He rotated his hand in a half wave, but deep down, Damon knew there was a lot to fear.

Bonnie shared Emily's kindness, but their power was unstoppable and devastating in the wrong hands. As much as he tried to have faith in her because she was Elena's best and most trusted friend, he couldn't find himself capable of trusting her. Not even for a second.

The Bennett's had their own agenda.

Good thing Damon had his own.

**X0X0**

In two minutes time, Damon reached his destination**.**

The police station, for a Saturday afternoon, was surprisingly chaotic with officer running from cubicle to cubicle, dropping papers and sharing information. It was the kind of big city system that seemed out of place for such a small town.

His eyes scanned the back of the room where the Sheriff's office was. The door was closed along with the blinds. It was a bad time to burst into her office and demand a favor, but Liz Forbes was his last hope at finding Jeremy - Stefan too.

The chaos of people around him didn't even notice Damon. He walked straight up the middle without a single officer asking who he was or what he was doing. This lack of attention to detail was going to cost a lot of lives, Damon was certain of it. They were careless and too focused on all the wrong things.

Reaching the end of the hall, he lightly knocked on the door and let it fly open before a response was given. What Damon saw caught him off guard. For the briefest second, he felt a little bad for her, but the feeling disappeared as if it had never been felt.

Sheriff Forbes was strikingly pale. Her eyes were sunken in, and she looked as if she hadn't eaten in days. Elizabeth Forbes, for a human, wasn't half bad, but Damon didn't want to bring her closer to the truth about who he was. She was too engrossed and worried about Caroline. Getting any information or help out of her was going to be tricky, impossible even.

If he wanted results quickly, he had to play the sympathy card. And in order to be sympathic, he had to flip the switch off and let all emotions consume him. The whole idea was awful and likely to blow up in his face, but as Ric had stressed, there weren't many suitable options left.

"Sheriff." Damon smiled, slipping into the room. "I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, but I need your help."

"I appreciate that you're coming to me Damon, but now isn't a good time. With Mrs. Lockwood transitioning into the position of Mayor and Caroline still comatose, I'm afraid I don't have time." She frowned, looking guilty. "I'm sorry."

Damon slunk into the chair across from the Sheriff. He was probably too close, but if there anything he knew about Forbes, it was the love of her family.

"I wouldn't ask if it weren't important." He explained, watching as a small flicker of emotion danced across her features. "Jenna and Elena have been struggling with Jeremy."

"Vicki Donovan," The Sheriff cut in. "They were close. I don't know much more than that. Caroline and I never really talked much about our friends or social lives."

"I know this isn't normal protocol, but I was hoping I could ask for that favor."

"Now?" She eyed him warily. "Could this wait a few weeks?"

Damon, as cold and evil as he was, knew that he'd have to go to any lengths to find Stefan and Jeremy. Maybe it went against everything he was trying to show, but Damon knew he couldn't take on Katherine by himself. That is...if Katherine was _really _back.

"I wish it could, Sheriff."

A sigh of defeat escaped from between her chapped lips. "Jonathan Gilbert made a mess, Damon. The fire is under review by the fire department, and they'll know it's arson. What do I do? Say I knew that Jonathan went crazy? Somehow, I think both of us know that's not the right place to be."

Jonathan Gilbert. The elephant in the room. He was the reason things were more complicated in Mystic Falls. Now with the threat out there, vampires weren't safe. It was only a matter of time before they had to leave the town behind. Permanently. Forever. No looking back.

"Sheriff," Damon tried again, his lips curving into a tiny smile. "I understand you're not in the best position right now, but if you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

Liz shuffled through a high stake of paperwork - no doubt thanks to the disaster the Founders' Day event turned into. She jotted down something in the margin, and even when Damon went to look closer, she flipped the sheet of paper.

"What do you need?" She paused, eying him cautiously. "I'm not making any promises, Damon. But I'll bite. Tell me what you need."

"As you've noticed, Jeremy's had a really tough year - tougher than any teen in town. The night of Founders' Day, he took off and didn't tell anyone where he is. Jenna thinks he's spending time at my place."

She shook her head. "This should be reported."

"No," he cut in quickly. "He's scared and fragile right now."

Sheriff Forbes, inquisitive by nature, stared Damon down.

"Why are you so concerned with the Gilbert's? If anyone would be concerned, it should be Stefan. Yet, he's not here."

"Sheriff, I mean this in the best possible way, but why would you do a favor for Stefan? You don't even know him."

"Maybe that's true, but if I'm going to help, I need to know why anything that happens to the Gilbert's is _any _of your concern."

The Sheriff was obviously colder, more suspicious even. Damon wanted to slap himself for thinking he could swoop in, dazzle her, and get what he needed. That way was too easy. He knew the unpredictability of human emotions, and if he wanted to track down Jeremy before Katherine found him, Damon realized that he had to pull off a very convincing, loving human.

"Elena is my best friend."

Liz gave him a strange look. "Somehow, I don't think your brother would be happy to hear that."

"He knows," Damon added quickly. "And if Elena hurts, I hurt too."

"Damon..." The Sheriff trailed off. Her face twisted into guilt. "I don't think this is a favor I can concede to."

The words weren't a shock to Damon. He kept the frown and anger on the inside, knowing that Liz would be trickier to convince unless he gave her something in turn, something worth of all of the trouble.

"Sheriff," Damon grinned, showing his white teeth, "I think I have valuable information you might be interested in." He looked around the empty room and lowered his voice. "You know, about...vampires."

The Sheriff straightened, eyes wide and shining with fear. "I thought they all died in the fire."

"Unfortunately, I think there are vampires in town. Do you really think John Gilbert being targeted wasn't related to his hunt to kill vampires?"

"That was a stabbing. It's still under investigation. Our forensic team is still combing through the home and Mr. Gilbert for any evidence."

Damon gave her a pointed look. "I don't mean to step on your toes Sheriff, but vampires are _still _a threat. I have the experience to back me up. All I need is the go-ahead to track Jeremy and I'll tell you everything I need to know."

"Damon, in case you haven't noticed, the counsel is being eliminated one by one. I'm running out of people I can trust to run this investigation. If you really want to find Jeremy, I'm going to need your help. You're the most experienced hunter, and one of few I can rely on to get the job done right."

His hands dug deeply into his legs. He wasn't the type to bargain or consider, but if he could factor in Alaric's help, maybe they could locate Katherine faster. Damon knew he had to lure her out of town before she destroyed Mystic Falls. As much as a part of him still felt for her, he knew the undying love wasn't there anymore.

"I'll agree to your terms, but first, I find Jeremy. Then we can hunt."

Liz opened her mouth to speak but a knock on the door silenced whatever she was going to say.

Damon jumped to his feet, still smiling. His face was beginning to hurt from all the smiling, and he couldn't wait to scowl again. "Well, it looks like I've overstayed my welcome, Liz. I'll see you soon."

Just as the door opened and a deputy entered the office, Damon slipped out.

.

.

.

.

Disclaimer: I don't own **Buffy The Vampire Slayer **or any other pop culture references I've thrown in here like **Star Wars**. Also, just for the record, Damon is conflicted over the Bonnie situation because of the promise he made to Emily that the Bennett line would continue. So, this is not just for Elena's sake. When I edit this chapter, I'll add that in here.


	5. Chapter 5

_**chapter 5**_

Damon made it clear that the rendezvous point was the boarding house. He used his deep, don't-mess-with-me-or-I'll-rip-you-apart voice, and the end results never failed; he got exactly what he was hoping for.

Elena and Alaric, surprisingly early and chatting about school and history class, were in the kitchen and seated at the counter. It was a place Damon never bothered to go. With his diet, the kitchen was useless in terms of satisfying his hunger.

"Glad to know the gang's all here." He announced in a loud, playful voice. As he entered the kitchen, he lightly swatted the top of Elena's head. "Glad to see punctuality hasn't been lost on either of you."

Alaric gave him a sour look. "I'm afraid I can't say the same about you."

Truer words couldn't have been spoken, but Damon let the words roll off his back as he hopped onto the stool next to Elena.

"Can't argue with the truth." He shrugged, grabbing Elena's sandwich out of her hand and taking a big bite out of it. At her incredulous look, he beamed a show-stopping smile. "Thanks, 'Lena. It was so thoughtful of you to share your lunch with me."

She eyed him through thick lashes. "You're welcome. Personally, I didn't think you were a turkey and rye kind of guy."

"I don't have to enjoy it to eat it," he explained, propping his elbows onto the cool, marble counter of the island. "Now, if you don't mind me skipping this stimulating and entertaining small talk, I'd like to get down to business."

The frailness of Elena's state hit Damon fully as she frowned, her skin instantly turning a sickly pale. Sometimes it was too easy to forget about John. But Damon couldn't skirt around the truth to ease her into the situation. She could handle it. He was sure of it. The Elena he knew was resilient to almost _everything_.

"I don't like making assumptions without the facts, but I told Alaric the other day that Katherine might be in town."

Elena didn't flinch or exhale sharply. But the terror in her big, brown doe eyes proved that the name was just as damaging to her as it was to Damon. "The message," she breathed, her face masked in understanding. "The blood message on the wall. It was signed 'K'." Elena shook her head. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Alaric, sensing the tension, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Damon was thankful for the teacher's quick action. As long as he refrained from touching her more than necessary, then he didn't have to worry about dealing with the swell of emotions ballooning inside him.

"You have more pressing matters to attend to," Damon explained. "But I had a little chat with the Sheriff. I clued her in on the possibility of more vampires in town, and as long as I help lead the investigation, I've been promised her tracking equipment."

"Tracking?" She asked. Her face morphed into confusion.

"We can trace your brother's cell phone with the police department's equipment." Alaric explained. "As long as you permit it."

"I'm willing to do anything to find Jeremy." Her eyes shined with determination. She turned her focus back onto Damon who was standing across from her; she wondered when he moved, but laughed to herself. It was too easy to forget that he was a vampire. "But what about Stefan? And the Sheriff?"

"Whoa, slow down. I'm not Jeeves. I can only answer questions I can understand."

"Okay." Alaric pushed the stool backwards, sliding off the chair in a fluid motion. He maneuvered around the island until he was facing Damon and Elena. "The plan is that Damon's going to slip into the station through the back. He'll track Jeremy's phone, meet me at the back of the building, and we'll drive to the location."

The lack of her inclusion didn't go unnoticed. Elena raised her head and gave Alaric a withered expression. "What about me?" She asked.

"Easy," Damon spoke smoothly. "You're staying behind."

Behind? The words burned in her head like a festering wound. She put her life on the line many of times. The situation unfolding was less harmful than any of the life-threatening scenarios she was in before.

With a tight lip and clenched jaw, Elena looked at the shiny, granite counter top. It was one thing for Damon to demand she stay behind, but with Mr. Saltzman on the bandwagon, how was she going to help? She was going mad, sitting around and waiting for any good news about John. And as long as she could help it, she wasn't going to lounge around while Stefan and Jeremy were AWOL.

"Mr. Saltzman has weapons. It's okay."

She reached for Damon's elbow, but he pulled it away. "It's _not_okay, Elena. We've gone down this same road before. It's not safe. Jeremy could be a vampire. Jeremy could be held hostage by vampires. There are too many unknown variables. That's why Ric will go. He can't die with his shiny, little ring. You, on the other hand, _can_ die."

Elena felt the exasperation growing inside of her. "I'm not a child, Damon!" She argued with heated, rosy cheeks. "I know I could die, but Jeremy's my brother no matter what. And I'll go with no matter what."

Of course, Damon was prepared for Elena's compassion to shine through.

"I said I'd text the location to Ric, Elena. That doesn't include you. This is non-negotiable."

Elena sighed in frustration and pouted. She knew she was acting childish, but she was angry. They didn't know how useful she felt. It was why she didn't stay in the car that day - not even when Damon made her promise. She couldn't sit back, idle and safe, while someone she loved was hurt or dying; she owed it to Stefan and Jeremy.

"I'm not going to let this happen."

Damon's eyes darkened considerably. In less than a nanosecond, he was staring down at her furiously.

"Elena, now is not the time to play the hero because you're feeling guilty. Right now, you have an obligation to be there for Jenna. I promise that Ric and I will find both of them - no matter what it takes."

"What am I supposed to do?" Elena shot back, firing emotion after emotion at Damon. "Bonnie's not returning my calls. I haven't heard from Caroline or Matt."

Damon turned slightly. "Bonnie may be someone you want to avoid right now."

"Why?"

"She threatened me yesterday. She's more determined to eradicate vampires than you can imagine. Without Sheila to help her transition into a witch, she's going to have a lot of problems with control."

"Control?" She choked out, eyes wide. Bonnie was reliable and steadfast. She was levelheaded and always made the best decisions; she was always ten steps ahead when it came to homework or anything else. Her best friend lacking control didn't seem possible.

"Yes. You thought Stefan's love for you was enough to keep him in control of his vampire side, but you can't rely on feelings. People, vampires, and even witches, are unpredictable when power plays its role. Right now, you need to keep your distance. She could hurt you if you don't give her this time."

"We should help her," Elena insisted desperately.

"Damon might be right," Alaric chimed in, shifting on the stool so he could turn to face her. "You can't worry about her right now. She'll kill any of us that breathe near her the wrong way. The best thing to do is to please stay here at the Salvatores' until tonight. After we find Jeremy, I'll take you home. Jenna should be back from classes by then."

Strength was something Elena possessed a lot of, but fighting Mr. Saltzman and Damon was futile. Now that they were teaming up at every opportunity, she didn't stand a chance at winning. But, she didn't want to stay in the dark.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Damon's patience was wearing thin. He grabbed Elena's arm, pulling her into the middle room. If he couldn't get her to stay put or go home, it left him with one solution: to tell the truth he learned about Caroline.

"Elena, I know there's not a right time to tell you this, but I was talking to the Sheriff. She said that Caroline's in the hospital. Comatose."

"What? How? No one told me anything! It's not possible." Her tone was painfully sharp from her hysterics.

"I didn't mean to upset you..."

Eyes blazing in anger, Elena looked up at him. "Yes you did. It was your Plan B to get me to stay when Plan A failed, right?"

Damon looked uncomfortable. "I didn't know about Caroline. Obviously, for some reason, the Sheriff has been trying to keep the accident under wraps."

"But I'm one of her best friends..." Elena looked completely stricken. "I was at the hospital for all those days. How could I not know? How come we didn't see the Sheriff or Matt or Bonnie or even Tyler?"

The strangeness of the situation had occurred to Damon. Obviously the town was small enough for news to travel, but it hadn't. The only other possibility was that the Sheriff of Mystic Falls was trying hard to cover something up. But there wasn't anything he could do about it right then, so Damon filed the question in the back of his mind. He'd see Liz later and force the information then.

"Didn't you ask any questions?"

A careless shrug was all he managed. "Too many questions warrants suspicion, Elena. The Sheriff is having difficultly trusting me. I'm on thin ice."

She stood perfectly still, her eyes as cold and hard as steel. One hand was on her hip, and she regained control of her breathing, successfully slowing down her rapidly beating heart.

"Why would you tell me this? You know I won't stay."

"I know how much the human means to you," he clarified. "And I told you before, I don't lie and keep secrets. That's not who I am."

"Let me come with." Elena insisted one more time. "Give me the peace of mind I need. Let me help find Jeremy. And I'll wait until visiting hours start tomorrow to see Caroline."

A bargain? Damon arched a brow in her direction. Could he trust her words when she was emotionally driven?

"Elena Gilbert bartering." His blue eyes, full of mischief, turned to Alaric who joined them in parlor. "What do you think, Ric?"

A little surprised, Alaric jumped, snapped from his daze. His plan was to slip right past them and out the front door unnoticed, but that action seemed silly. With cloudy eyes and his lips forming a straight line, he mediated the situation with a neutral tone.

"I think the woods aren't a safe place to wander through for anyone but especially for a girl."

Frustrated, Elena scowled. "You're human too, Mr. Saltzman."

"Give him a little credit, 'Lena. He's a human that's strong and can wield a stake and a crossbow. You," he eyed her, "aren't strong. You're not expendable."

She pursed her lips together. The urge to fight him tooth-and-nail every step of the way still lingered. "We've talked about this before. You say I'm valuable."

"And more. Yadda, yadda, yadda and so fourth." He rubbed his hands together, grinning madly. "Now if you stop holding us back...we have somewhere to be."

"But." The words were lost in translation, a jumble of gibberish in her head. So all she could do was gape at Damon with wide eyes. It killed her on the inside that she had been so close with Bonnie and Caroline. There weren't secrets upon secrets until the Salvatores. She'd be an idiot to think otherwise. "Please Damon," she begged, putting her every emotion on the line. "I feel so out of control. _Please_let me keep some control. I only want to tag along and find Jeremy."

Damon stalked across the room, filling up a scotch glass with the first bottle he grabbed: vodka. Clearly not his first choice, but he filled the glass anyway and took a large swig. Sometimes it was too damn hard to say no to her.

"I am _so_ going to regret this."

**X0X0**

With nighttime patrols stationed throughout the town, Damon found it easy to slip in while the Sheriff was away. He located the tracking equipment, entered Jeremy's number, and was surprised when the weak signal popped onto the screen. Using coordinates, he pulled up a map of Mystic Falls and pinpointed the location.

Jackpot.

Turning the equipment off, Damon slipped into the narrow hallway that was lined with doors and plaques on both sides of the wall. He stopped at the door that read _Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes_, tempted to riffle through Liz's things and dig for the truth. She was too adamant to hide Caroline, and walking through that door was his ticket to jumping ahead in line.

An opportunity this perfect wouldn't reoccur.

His lips set into a straight line.

He reached for the knob but stopped when he remembered he had a promise to uphold. Duty called. Right then, he had to take care of frying the small big fish would have to wait.

Moving at super speed, Damon was at the back door in a flash. Alaric stood at a nearby tree, scowling heavily, while Elena kept furiously texting with her phone.

Damon frowned. That deep, pensive look only met one thing: she was trying to get in touch with Stefan to no avail. He shook his head. She was damn determined, which was a trait he admired about her. They were both relentless.

"I got a hit." Damon broke the silence. "I know, I know. Don't all come showering me with affection at once. I can't stand all the love."

Elena trembled, struggling to put her phone into her pocket. "Where?" She demanded.

"The cemetery."

"A cemetery?" Alaric's eyes widened in alarm. "You sure?"

"No offense to Elena but teenage-angst has a strong hold on the poor sap. He just tried to kill himself. And failed, Ric. Where do you think a suicidal boy would hang?"

Alaric pursed his lips together and glared fire. "If it was so obvious, Damon, then why didn't you think of it?"

The silence swirled around them.

"I _never_said I could think of everything, teach. Now, get your shit together. We're moving in tonight."

Damon led the group towards the woods. Elena appeared directly behind him, struggling to keep up with his fast pace.

"I'm sorry if I was a little harsh," Damon apologized. "Jeremy and I have had more than enough confrontations."

"You and Jeremy?" She asked quietly. "When? About what?"

_About you_ he wanted to say. He couldn't. Some things he purposely kept from Elena. Some things were necessary to keep buried. He couldn't falter for a moment. Elena could _never_know how he felt, or how she was weakening his defenses.

She was bringing out his humanity. Too soon. Too effortlessly. Too lovingly.

"Fine," she snapped in a clipped tone. If he didn't want to answer her, she'd let him enjoy the long walk alone. "If you want to hide the truth, that's your decision..."

By the way she hesitated, Damon swore she was going to add Stefan. That thought along made him angry.

"I'll tell you later, Elena. Stop being such a brat. Tonight is about your brother - not about me."

"You can say whatever your deluded mind makes you think, but I'm done with this conversation. Sorry Damon."

"Hit me with your best shot, 'Lena. Contrary to your belief, I'm not as breakable as you think."

The words were a sucker punch to her gut. Annoyed, she came to a stop and waited until Alaric passed. Maybe she was being a little childish, a little temperamental even, but she worried about so many people in her life. And, Elena felt like that entitled her to be a little testy and selfish.

Alaric gave her a sympathetic look. "Sorry," he mouthed.

She nodded. At least her history teacher wasn't oblivious to Damon's scathing remarks and bad attitude.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Alaric asked suddenly, shining a flashlight at the back of Damon's head.

"I know the woods better than you, teacher," Damon snapped. "Keep up and stop asking stupid questions."

"Don't forget who has backstage access to vervain, vampire."

Despite the strained situation and the growing need to find and scold Jeremy, Damon laughed. It was a deep, booming kind that reverberated with sincerity. While he had his reservations about Alaric, Damon was realizing that he didn't loathe his company as much as he used to.

Damon stepped over a rotting log covered in shiny, green moss in the middle of the woods, and he looked up. To a human, the tree lines looked the same, but to him they were each different.

"Tell me," Alaric added suddenly, "why we couldn't go through the cemetery at the main gate?"

Elena, who was in the back, started at a light jog, picking up her pace until she was beside her history teacher. "Because it could be a trap," she suggested logically. "And, doesn't slipping through the back door give us the element of surprise?"

Damon grinned, feeling his anger towards Elena melt away. How the hell could she do that in a few, short minutes? _It's because you love her_, Isobel's voice echoed in his head. Damon just scowled and thought: _Shut up you stupid bitch. You don't know the first thing about love_.

"Excellent deduction, Elena," he crowed, erasing Isobel's haunting words from his memory. "You might want to take some notes, Ric. It seems you could learn a thing or two from your student."

"Gee thanks," Alaric muttered just as they reached the rusted, iron-wrought fence surrounding the cemetery grounds.

Alaric hopped over the fence, his fingers brushing against the ground as he regained his balance and stood. He wiped the dirt onto the back of his pants and pulled out an oak wooden stake saturated in vervain.

"I'll cover the Civil War and Vietnam areas." Clenching the stake tighter, he gazed at Damon and then Elena. "Be careful."

As he disappeared into the distance, Elena frowned. The cemetery was the largest of Mystic Falls; the back was a steep hill covered in colorful, wild flowers. There was a small flat area about five feet long, and she shivered at the idea of miscalculating the jump and tumbling, head first, down a steep hill.

Elena grimaced. "Maybe now's a good time to tell you that I'm afraid of heights."

Damon raised an eyebrow and gave her an incredulous look. He gripped the bars, ready to hoist himself over the other side, when he stopped and held out his hand. "Either let me help you or you can stay here. Alone."

Elena knew it wasn't a real threat. Damon wouldn't leave her alone, but her heart still pumped faster. And fog was rolling across the horizon, blanketing the cemetery. Did she really want to risk counting on Damon's compassion?

Her gaze fell to the ground. "Okay," she told him quietly.

She grabbed his hand, still shaking, and he squeezed it reassuringly.

"Now," he told her quietly, his eyes trained on hers, "I'm going to hoist myself over the top. Hang tight onto the bars and I'll help you over."

Damon moved in a blur, suddenly directly in front of Elena. All that separated them were metal bars.

"One foot at a time, start climbing."

The faster she got down, the happier she would be. Elena followed his instructions, word for word, and she was halfway there until she got stuck at the top. A wave of nausea slammed into her at once.

"I can't swing over. I can't."

"I thought you were fearless," were his arrogant, callous words of encouragement. "This fog isn't going to wait, Elena. And the longer you waste my time, the more we could be lured into a trap."

"Thanks for the encouraging words," she mumbled, clutching onto the fence tighter.

Damon was growing impatient. He told Elena countless times to just stay put, but she didn't listen very well. She was too driven by what she wanted, and in that moment, Damon realized what he sensed from her: pride. She oozed of it - like a leaky faucet. Clearly, she was too proud to ask for help. And Damon couldn't help but further draw the comparisons between the two of them.

"Let's move on," he spoke, grabbing her tightly around the waist.

She shrieked, extremely ticklish, and when she squirmed in Damon's hold, she shifted until her face was pressed against his. He moved backwards, managing the additional weight, and turned to look away as her neck was right beside his mouth; he could envision piercing her milky smooth skin and tasting her blood.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly, her lips brushing against his ear.

Damon shivered before pushing her away, breaking the spell that had bewitched him.

Not here. Not now. Not ever.

Elena Gilbert was the one human he would _never_drink blood from.

"I'm fine." He wrote it off to nothing and pushed her away. "Ric's already covered twice as much ground as we have. Stay close and don't talk. This could be a trap."

Elena silently absorbed his words and followed directly behind him. While she knew Damon was just trying to protect her how she knew, she suddenly missed the comfort that Stefan brought. He was kind and gentle and loving. Elena didn't doubt that Damon couldn't be any of those things, but in stressful situations, he was always the maniacal dictator.

Stefan was Stefan. Despite a few snags in the road, Elena still loved everything about him. But she couldn't deny the transformations of Stefan's personality when Damon came to town. Elena hated thinking that a brotherly hatred could carry on for over a hundred years, and secretly, she wished they'd get along.

Co-exist.

But who was she kidding?

**X0X0**

Damon and Elena traipsed through the cemetery for nearly half an hour.

Elena was jumpy, her eyes constantly flitting in every direction, but nothing unusual happened. Creatures didn't pop out of the thickets. Booby traps weren't set up like mind fields across the grass. Even the grave markers were perfectly intact.

And Damon was beginning to wonder if the tracking device was faulty. Now that he was suspicious of the Sheriff and what she knew, he couldn't rule out the idea that she tampered with the equipment. But he couldn't understand why she'd want to do that - especially when the Gilberts were a very large benefactor for the council over the years.

"I'm not seeing anything." Damon broke the vow of silence he ordered, but then again, he didn't exactly follow _any_orders. "Maybe we've been duped." He scanned the rest of the cemetery, looking for something out of place, but the areas were undisturbed and quiet.

"We could cover more ground if we split up." Elena suggested.

"No." He spoke the word with finality and turned to look into her worried brown eyes. "Don't you watch horror movies, Elena? Don't you pay attention to how the psychopathic killer strikes when the group splits up? Honestly, Elena."

She stepped around a crumbling, algae infested grave marker, her eyes never leaving his. "I just want to find Jeremy."

His blue eyes began swirling with emotion. He put both hands on her shoulder and stared. "I know," he whispered, strained. "But we have to be smart about this. Tell me, where are your parents buried?" Of course Damon knew exactly where they were, but he was feeling a little human this particular night.

She exhaled and moved her eyes towards a plot about a hundred yards away. Hatred, agony, sadness, and defeat swelled within her as she raised her shaking hand and pointed.

But as Damon expected, Jeremy wasn't there. If he was lurking anywhere, he was most likely hiding. It was something Damon could see himself doing because the cemetery was too open, too much of an easy target.

"What about one of the mausoleums? As a kid, we used to visit our grandparents. Jeremy and I used to wander off. One day, we decided we'd sit on top of a mausoleum. We were only six, I think. And we decided to play truth or dare." She swallowed nervously, feeling unnerved by the way Damon was staring at her with eyes full of mischief and lips tugged upwards into a smirk. "I dared him to jump off the mausoleum. He sprained his ankle. I thought he'd never talk to me again..."

"As much as I appreciate the blast from the past into Elena Gilbert's happy childhood, I think we should do less reminiscing and more searching."

"See, you're always like this!" Elena cried out, stamping her foot into the ground. "I'm trying to tell you that we spent the next three summers at that mausoleum, Damon. We never went inside...because neither of us ever had the guts to."

Damon clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "And you think he's hiding out in a dark, wet, moldy mausoleum with a corpse?"

"Yes."

Damon bowed and held out a hand. "After the lady."

Elena shook her head and brushed past him. "Do you think we should find Mr. Saltzman, first?"

"Ever the killjoy. Ric is a big boy. Let him look. He might find something worth knowing."

Keeping the group separated seemed like a bad idea, but Elena nodded. She could keep thinking about Stefan and Bonnie and Caroline, but at that moment, her brother was the _only_one she could help. And he was family. Naturally, he'd come first-even if he was being a first class jackass.

"Where is this mausoleum you speak so fondly of?" Damon asked, slipping into a formal tone. He slung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. "So where is it?"

"It's been a long time," she squeaked. Her cheeks were a bright red. Sometimes it was hard to be around a vampire. They always seemed to know how emotions-even when she didn't want to broadcast them. "I think it's northeast. Half a mile. Quarter maybe. It's probably surrounded by trees. I remember it being at the bottom of a hill..."

Damon pushed her forward.

"I have a bad feeling about this direction." He told her calmly. Now wasn't the time to scare her or make her heart race. "Don't, under any circumstances, move out of my hold. It's _too_much of a risk. Capische?"

"Fine."

She started walking, nearly out of his hold, when he grabbed her arm and yanked her to him. Her back was flush against his chest.

"I don't think you need to be that far."

"I don't think we need to be this close."

"Touche," he murmured, both hands firmly planted on her shoulders as he guided her towards the far northeast corner of the graveyard.

This time, Elena didn't argue. They just kept walking forward, stumbling through the thick fog; they reached the far edge of the cemetery that was covered in cobwebs and low-lying branches. A handful of mausoleums were at the bottom of a slippery slope.

Yellow caution tape surrounded the perimeter of crumbling catacombs. A wooden post was driven into the ground with a sign secured on it, but the words were unidentifiable at such a far distance.

"Okay. Close enough." Damon spoke up, holding Elena back. "There are about 10 buildings down there. Any idea which is the right one?"

Elena opened her mouth to say something, but she knew he wouldn't like the answer. _No_. It was too long, too much of a stretch. She couldn't remember the right building. Maybe if she got closer-maybe if she felt the buildings. Something had to happen. There wasn't a single second of time that could be wasted.

"Right." Damon released his hold on her. "The risk may outweigh the outcome if we go down there, Elena. Just thought I'd throw that out there."

"I don't care about danger nearly as much as my brother."

Damon counted on Elena's bravery. Maybe that was partly why he allowed her to join in on his little adventure with the teacher, but she made him vulnerable. Every twig cracking and every rustling in the bushes had his senses at high alert. He was too concerned with her safety. That fact alone was slowing them down dramatically.

"Stay behind me. Follow my every footstep."

Dryness welled in Elena's throat as she forced a brisk nod. After days of worrying, she just wanted to hug Jeremy tightly. She wanted relief and piece of mind. But more than that, it was one less person she had to agonize about their safety.

"Good. No objections make this easier."

Slowly and stealthily, Damon led Elena to the bottom of the hill. They sidestepped every branch, rock, and leaf that would signal their arrival. Although they hadn't encountered any snags in the road, Damon knew better than to get comfortable or let his guard down.

Even as they reached the first crypt, which was one of the oldest, it was covered with angel carvings and intricate Latin. It was the language of the dead, one Damon surprisingly wasn't familiar with.

"Anything?" Damon asked, his eyes fixated to the Latin text in fancy script above the door.

Elena lightly touched the door, forcing her eyes closed. Minute after minute passed until she let out a sigh and opened her eyes.

"Nothing," she breathed, disappointed.

One down, nine to go, Damon thought as they walked towards the next crypt. It was even worse for wear, half of the stone structure crumbling away. This burial chamber was a lot different than the first.

It was twice the size and a dark ash color. On the roof was a monstrous cross that was hidden by Spanish moss.

Elena brushed her fingers along the surface, digging deeper into her brain. She needed to tap into memories. And just when she was about to give up, a glimmer of a memory flashed.

The cross.

She remembered it now.

Jeremy sat on one side of the cross while Elena sat at the other. They'd let their feet dangle over the edge. And she recalled that night of truth or dare when Jeremy stood up, gripping the side of the cross. But even then, it was unstable, and the cross began to sway, throwing Jeremy off balance. Messing with his equilibrium was enough to send him off the side, landing onto the grass on his back.

"This is it," she whispered, warmth of the memory fading away.

"Finally."

Damon smirked, walking towards the door. He raised his foot, sending his leg crashing into the door with lethal force. The door flew against the back wall, breaking off into pieces.

"Was that really necessary?" She hissed at him. "It's already falling apart."

"You know me," Damon teased. "If there's a fun way to do something, I'll do it."

Elena shook her head. She seemed to do that a lot around Damon.

"Unbelievable. Are you going to go through the door first?"

"I don't think this is exactly safe, Elena. Stay out here. Call Ric and bring him up to speed."

"I'd rather go inside."

"You'd rather be a pain in my ass. I know. But I work better alone. Understand? Have the teach meet you here. And stay armed. Vigil. Something about this feels too easy."

Elena pulled her hair back into a low ponytail. The balmy summer night had her hair sticking to her face.

"Fine, but I still don't like this."

Damon's smile was grim. "Neither do I."

He placed a hand on the stone wall of the crypt, disappearing into the damp, musty building infested with centuries-old cobwebs.

.

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**Note: I apologize for the delay. I was doing more thorough plotting. And I promise, Caroline isn't forgotten, I've just changed a few things that happened to her to better suit the plot I have. If you have any questions or concerns about anything I left out, make sure you sign in and review. **


	6. Chapter 6

_**chapter 6**_

The sky was inky black, free of clouds, and it served as the perfect backdrop to the full moon shining brightly above the cemetery.

Elena shivered involuntarily.

Simply gazing at the orb of night, for some inescapable reason, caused an outbreak of goose bumps to cover her arms.

Something about the moon was ominous; unforgiving. Even as she leaned against the mausoleum, eyes traced to the darkening sky, she felt as if the moon were more symbolic than it had ever been.

A series of deep, resounding howls filled the silence, and Elena's heart skipped a few beats. She looked out into the distance, but saw nothing out of place. It crossed her mind that she was either delusional or just crazy.

_Get a grip_, she told herself.

The air felt supercharged. She wanted to move towards the fence bordering the side of the cemetery, but her feet were cemented in place. She suddenly felt like a coward, no longer heroic or strong but just a normal human girl with fears and weaknesses.

Another series of howls ripped through the air. The fog continued to roll in, reducing her visibility to no more than a hand in front of her face. And as much as she could tolerate vampires and all kinds of creatures, she didn't think she could hold a candle to a pack of wolves.

_Maybe I should find Damon_, she thought nervously, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead.

The rustling in the woods was growing louder; the animals were closing in. As much as she wanted to wait for Mr. Saltzman like Damon ordered, she found she was unable to comply with his desires.

_Sorry Damon_.

The apology repeated in her head as she turned around, pushing the door open so she had enough room to slip through.

Elena hesitantly entered the mausoleum. The hair on her arms rose stiffly in the cool, damp air. She rubbed her hands over her arms in a fruitless attempt to warm them. Taking a deep breath, she resumed walking.

Her footsteps echoed off the stone floor and bounced around the walls. The sound turned into a constant tattoo of click-click-click-click. Suddenly, there was a disruption in the pattern. A chill went down her spine as she heard a sickening snapping sound underneath her feet. She opened her cell phone and directed the light towards the floor.

A shriek was caught in her throat.

The sight before her was unnatural.

Carcasses of dead rodents and other small animals littered the ground by the hundreds. The stages of decomposition ranged from freshly deceased to skeletal remains. It was hard to keep down the contents of her stomach, especially when she noticed the rat skull around her shoes. She shook her feet to remove the fragments.

Distressed, she hugged her frame into a compact form and slowly slinked down the hallway. Her eyes darted cautiously around the floor—even more aware of where the remains lie.

When she finally reached the interior of the tomb, she lets out a staggered breath. She made it.

The walls were lined with stone tablets engraved with names too worn away to be read. She realized quickly that Jeremy couldn't be hiding in one of the crypts - the stones were too large and heavy for a single person to remove. Standing in place with her arms akimbo, she scanned the room for any additional places Jeremy could hide.

But the dim light emitting from the cell phone proved to be more of a hindrance than anything. She pressed a hand against the wall, touching wet, slimy rock. The feeling sent a shiver through her body and she jumped away, her cell phone slipping from between her fingers.

Instantly she was bathed in pitch black. She dropped to her knees, her hands running across the dirt in a desperate attempt to find her phone; she touched rocks, bones, and crumpling leaves before grasping onto her phone. Elena pushed a button. Nothing happened. With a frown, she touched the screen.

A feeling of dread hit her all at once.

Was this really happening?

"Damon?" She called out, her words echoing throughout the crypt as she blindly stumbled to her feet. Elena tripped and stumbled again, but managed to keep her balance. And she wished, no prayed, that she could be blessed with perfect night vision to navigate the dark.

The sound of shuffling caught her attention in a moment. She spun around, her silky brown locks whipping through the air. Desperately, she squinted as if it'd help. It didn't.

"Hello?" She tried again, uncertainty clinging to her words. "Is anyone there?"

All she heard was deafening, eerie silence. Something was wrong. She could feel the difference in the air, and her heart pounded uncontrollably. Maybe calling out wasn't the best idea because she was bringing attention to herself, but Elena wasn't the Cowardly Lion.

She took a step to the right. Her hand brushed against the rocky walls. All at once, an idea hit her. She could use the rocks as a guide and retrace her steps. Elena almost let out a cry of joy. _At least I can still think under pressure,_she thought.

Her hand skittered along the rocks. They would lead her towards safety and hopefully light.

There was no knowing how long it would take her to navigate the crypt. On the inside, it was much larger than she could imagine. And without light, it was too easy to get lost and never be found again. It wasn't a risk she was willing to take.

Elena had to be smart, on top of her game. More than that, she needed to ignore the faint reverberation of footsteps that followed her.

If someone was in the tomb, they probably knew she was in there too.

Another step forward and she walked into a thick cobweb. Coughing and sputtering, she swiped into the blindness, her fingers brushing against cold skin. Instinctively, she pulled her hand away but was stopped. The person, who she figured was male from the rough texture of the hand, had a tight grip on her.

A cold sensation went through her body. What if this person was a remaining vampire from the tomb? Her heart beat wildly in sheer panic; if this wasn't Damon, she was in trouble.

"Who are you?" she whispered. Her voice reverberated throughout the crypt, repeating the question, but even as the echoing faded, she was met by silence. No response.

"Please, whoever you are, let me go," she pleaded.

Afraid for her life, she started to thrash around madly, her flailing limbs connecting with flesh and bone. Her sudden attack caught the person by surprise. Elena was released in an instant, and she slammed into the wall as she struggled to regain her balance. Heart pounding madly, she didn't dare to spare a look behind her. Instead, she began running blindly through the dark, praying that she wouldn't stumble across the piles of debris.

Her escape lasted only for a few seconds before she was pulled backwards. She opened her mouth to scream but a rough, cool hand covered her mouth. Trapped.

"Wait," a male voice said.

She recognized the tone.

Damon grabbed her hand, his fingers pushing into her pressure points.

"Elena." He sighed heavily, pulling her towards a dim light at the end of the crypt. "I thought I told you to wait outside."

She could visualize the stony, disappointed look he was wearing. It was his lecturing face, and she wasn't in the mood for him to play the authority figure.

"I couldn't."

"I figured you would be difficult," was his offhanded remark. "But really, Elena, your moments of bravery are starting to be outweighed by your moments of stupidity."

Elena crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. "I heard wolves. They were getting closer. It seemed smarter to be in here, Damon," she shot back.

"_Always_excuses," he mocked, shaking his head. A few strands of hair fell into his eyes. "I should have handcuffed you to Ric. You always have to be in the center of danger, don't you?"

"No!" She exclaimed, anger seeping into her voice. "And you didn't have to scare the hell out of me back there. I thought I was going to die." Fire blazed in her eyes, and she prepared herself for round two, but the profane words were trapped on the tip of her tongue.

"Good. You should be scared, 'Lena. I _warned_you time and time again that you're not invincible. You're just human. So, would you get it through your thick skull that I'm only trying to look out for you? But, I can't do that if you decide to act on every one of your impulses."

"But there were wolves."

"I swear, you've lived in this town all your life and you're just realizing that wolves are here now? What the hell are they teaching kids these days at school?" He mused. "I guess I have to get on dear Ric about that, now won't I?"

Elena shot him a dark look. "Really, Damon? You want to be sarcastic at a time like this."

"Less criticizing and flapping of the gums. More walking."

He shooed her forward like a fly, and for the life of her, Elena didn't know what compelled her to obey him or why she cracked the slightest of smiles.

**XOXO**

They wandered through a maze of crumbling, deteriorating rooms and chambers that led deeper and deeper into the earth. Elena swore it was nearly impossible for so many rooms to exist in a small crypt, but as she was beginning to notice, nothing about it was ordinary.

A thought formed in the back of her mind - what if they weren't supposed to be down here?

She pushed that thought away and tried to focus on their current situation. The more that she worried, the less chance she would be able to think clearly. Although she couldn't see Damon, she still looked over at him.

"Do you think Jeremy is in here somewhere?" She asked quietly.

The walls were becoming narrower and the ceilings lower as they continued down cracked marble staircases that were designed in a spiral. Along the stairs were very small chambers, no bigger than a standard closet and they were filled with decaying, wooden boxes and other random objects. Elena couldn't get beyond how out of place everything was in this crypt.

Damon's hand tensed in hers as they stopped on a small landing for a break. A rat skittered in front of them, its long spindly tail sliding along the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Damon saw Elena flinch. A weakness. It surprised him that she was terrified of something so small, but yet she was so brave around vampires. To Damon, he couldn't understand Elena Gilbert.

She was an enigma, clearing proving that she was a million times more complicated than any human he ever encountered in over a century.

"I'm not sure. Let me take advantage of my bat radar, and I'll get right back to you."

"You're such an ass," Elena retorted. "Can't you just try? Maybe humor me a little?"

For a nanosecond, Damon felt the smallest twinge of guilt as her voice raised an octave and cracked. But there wasn't any room for sympathy or guilt, he realized.

"Elena, I'm doing my best," he explained, frustration rippling through his words. "I'd like to see you tap into your Spidey senses and find him yourself."

"Maybe I will," she snapped, ripping the black maglight from his light hold. "I'll lead the way, following the tingles and all..."

Damon threw up his hand in silent surrender. Her leading was probably a bad idea, but his patience was far too thin to do anything but humor her. If she wanted to play the fearless hero, he wasn't going to deny her the title.

"Aww, how cute," he cooed. "I'm rubbing off on you." He grinned, smiling widely and gesturing to himself.

"I think you're too full of yourself Damon," she snapped, her tone icy cold.

"Oh I am, darling. But you love me for it anyway."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you even care about anything? Because this isn't a joke to me. We're in an underground crypt, Damon. I feel like we're in the tomb all over again and I'm scared..."

He tilted his head to the side. Reaching out, his hands gently stopped her. When she was like this, so overcharged with emotion and feeling, it got to a part a him, a part that he wasn't comfortable exposing.

"Don't worry," he joked. "There's no Katherine down here, 'Lena. I'm not going _anywhere_."

But the joking and smiles weren't enough for Elena. She knew this was Damon-fighting what he felt deep down. He cared about her. They were friends, and no matter how much he joked and insulted, she knew it was just a facade because Damon Salvatore didn't want to be seen as weak. Or human.

"I don't know if I can trust those words."

"You shouldn't," was his quick, cold response. "Don't trust a monster. You know I'm not Stefan."

_You know I'm not Stefan_were the words that bounced painfully through her mind. What she liked most about the Salvatore brothers was how different they were; night and day. Each had their own sets of values, standards, and rules.

And she wasn't good to lie. As far as vampires were concerned, Stefan was as good and honorable as they got, but defining Damon as a monster wasn't possible. Who else would put their life on hold for 145 years for the love of their life? Damon clearly wasn't evil. When he loved, he loved deeply, and she admired that about him.

Love mattered.

Humanity mattered.

Living mattered.

As much as Damon was trying to fish for the comments that would make him feel secure, Elena wasn't willing to play his game. He wasn't a monster. And she wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear. That wasn't the kind of person she was, and she desperately hoped he'd someday understand that.

"I'm glad you're not Stefan," was her delayed, quiet response. "And whether you want to hear it or not, I trust you. I'll take off my vervain necklace a thousand times until you realize it."

Damon's response was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

"Mmhmm. That's real smart, Elena."

Angry, Elena stopped. No longer in the mood to humor him, she reached behind her neck, her fingers touching the clasp.

"Don't," Damon warned, his face inches from hers. "Now isn't the time to be reckless or stupid. What if I'm not the only vampire down here? I sincerely doubt you want to go down the compulsion road, but to each their own I guess."

The fiery look in his eyes died as she dropped her hands to her side. Damon was obviously in a mood. He wasn't as carefree and light as usual, and it bothered her. Because Damon was most protective and cruel when he had something to lose.

_Is he worried about Stefan_? She wondered, head spinning with thousands of ideas and explanations, but nothing made concrete sense.

"Damon, you and I both know that the only way you'll fully trust me is for me to trust you first."

"Mmhmm. Whatever you say, Elena."

Stalemate.

It was easy to keep talking and calling him out, but he wasn't budging.

She ran a weary hand across her face. "Fine, I like the silence better, anyway."

Anger propelled her forward, easily getting ahead of Damon. It was hard to look in front of her and watch the ground at the same time. For a split second, she thought it would've been smarter for Damon to lead, for him to make good use of his senses. But if he was going to be moody, she preferred to keep her distance.

"You might want to slow down," Damon's voice chimed in. There was a trace of warning and something else. Maybe genuine worry? Whatever it was, it caught her off guard, and against her better judgment, she slowed down.

Shining the light to the left, she saw the reason. The staircase suddenly stopped and the ground leveled out.

Damon's eyes swept across the darkness, trying to feel out the unfamiliar area while Elena stood idle and quiet.

The ceiling was low; the top of his head brushed against it. Cobwebs were probably trapped in his hair, and the thought alone made him wince. Damon was willing to get down and dirty, but not like this. Not under these circumstances.

The night was too much of a wild goose chase. A faulty machine, probably rigged by the sheriff, was meant to lure them in the wrong direction. He wouldn't be the first to admit that something about this felt horribly wrong and planned.

Damon clenched his fists. He was being too good, too human. He had to lose the nice act because it wasn't the real him. The real Damon was selfish and arrogant. And he sure as hell didn't wander through a secret path of tunnels beneath a crypt to benefit someone else—especially an arrogant, bratty teen that needed to learn his place.

But it was too coincidental. If no one knew of the crypt besides Elena and Jeremy, it ruled out his theory about the sheriff. And that was a real pity. Damon wanted someone to blame, and she had been the perfect candidate.

"It smells like mold," Damon muttered, wrinkling his nose. The scent permeated from the floors and the walls. Pretty much everywhere. "Give me the flashlight," he ordered, pulling it out of her grip before she could object. He flashed the light to the ceiling and let out a low growl. Most of it was covered in a thick layer of mold. "I don't think this is safe, Elena. Maybe you should go back upstairs..."

"And get lost?" She cut in. "No offense Damon, but I'd rather stay right where I am."

"Always trying to make things difficult," he bit out, shaking his head. "But since you're persistent to stay, you might want to know that we've reached the _very_bottom."

"How do you know?"

Damon focused the light above Elena's head - just enough that he could see her expression. "We're in a pool of water," he deadpanned, looking down at his feet where he stood in nearly an inch of stagnant, murky water.

Damon swore under his breath.

He was ruining a perfectly good pair of shoes for Jeremy Gilbert.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"You sound disgusted," Elena said. "You're not afraid of water?"

"No," he snapped. "But I am opposed to ruining a perfectly new pair of Ferragamo's. They're Italian leather, Elena. These kinds of things come with a hefty price tag. But I don't expect you to know anything about money. Contrary to what you may think, I worked over the years for what I have. I don't have a vast empire. I didn't create Google, either. So excuse me if I want to indulge myself and wear something flashy and expensive."

She sighed. "Why are we even talking about fashion right know? Shouldn't we be looking for Jeremy?"

He detected the weariness in her tone in an instant; he wasn't about to apologize for being a little materialistic. So what if he liked to wear designer clothing and accessories? He could do whatever he wanted, and Damon swore he wasn't about to cave at her puppy dog eyes.

"Jeremy's going to be my slave after this. Mark my words, Elena. He _owes_me."

"Owes you?"

Damon swatted the air. "A story for another day."

Elena hesitantly stepped into the water. She could feel it seep through the bottom of her shoes and wet her socks, but she was more worried about her brother; she walked towards another room where the archway was so low that she had to bend forward. Cobwebs clung to her hair and face. She blindly batted at the webs and flashed the light across the pitch black room.

It was no larger than the size of a closet, and Damon frowned. His arm brushed against Elena as he pushed ahead, walking towards the far corner of the room.

"I found a t-shirt," Damon blurted coolly, bending to his knees and picking up the shredded garment. A flicker of emotions passed through him, and he stumbled to keep them at bay. They were unwanted, unnecessary. It was the kind of hindrance he didn't need...goddamn humanity. "It's covered in blood."

"Blood?" Elena echoed. "Human or..."

He brought the shirt up to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Human, but I wouldn't sigh in relief. Whoever wore this was attacked by something sharp, something with claws."

"A vampire could do that right?" Elena trembled and gripped the wall with her hand. It give her extra support when she felt as if her legs were going to cave beneath her. Damon hadn't said whether it was Jeremy's shirt or not. His lack of confirmation had her fearing the worst: death or dying.

"Just stay close," he hissed and grabbed her arm. "This is _not_the time to disobey me again."

Damon smiled grimly. It sounded like a conversation he was always having with Elena. He told her to do one thing, but she did the other. And there was no knowing what it'd take to get the severity of the danger through her thick head.

As they exited the room, they entered a larger chamber - one that was full of broken crates, warped wood pieces, and a small fire burning at the center of the room. Someone or something was taking residence in the deepest, darkest area of the mausoleum.

The stench of mold grew, clinging onto Damon's senses. Dirty water trickled in through the heavy, jagged cracks in the concrete structure. It was obviously the direct cause of the mold infestation, and nothing human could survive this long in these conditions without the mold becoming toxic and lethal.

Damon's heart hammered in his chest.

There was a strong possibility that if they ever found Jeremy, the window of finding him alive was rapidly closing or already sealed tight.

"What do we do?" Elena whispered.

His hands steadied her shaking shoulders. "We keep moving. It's too dangerous to stay down here. Maybe, now might be the time for me to tell you that I don't think your brother is too morbid and angsty enough to spend his time this far down."

"I think it's clear that we shouldn't underestimate him, Damon," Elena warned softly. "He loved Anna even more than Vicki. _Nothing_is impossible when love factors in."

Damon whipped around to face her, his eyes swirling heavily with doubt and confusion. He enjoyed conversations with Elena because they weren't conventional. They were interesting, thrilling even, but he wasn't about to let things get philosophical.

This wasn't an episode of Dr. Phil.

"I hope you know how ridiculous you sound. I'm _almost_heartless enough to mock you for it."

"Then, why don't you?"

"'Lena, 'Lena. You _need_to stop with the petulant-child act. If I didn't know better, I'd say you like hearing the sound of my voice," he teased. "If you _really_want me to talk, just ask." He waggled his eyebrows in the dark - knowing full well that she couldn't see his face. "I can think of much, much more stimulating conversation."

Unable to control herself, her cheeks burned red. Maybe, after all, she had underestimated him. He was smiling and cracking jokes, but Elena knew better. It was a facade, a way to hide how he was really feeling.

He wasn't intentionally being an ass. She refused to believe it.

"Cat got your tongue?" He grinned, guiding her around another corner.

A blur of motion streaked by him - fast enough that he barely caught it out of the corner of his eyes. The smile disappeared from his face as he grabbed Elena, pulling her behind him, against a flat, wet wall.

He extended his fangs and hissed into the darkness.

"I know you're here, and I'm not really feeling patient tonight. Stop lurking in the shadows like a coward," Damon's voice rang out.

"I'm not a coward you dickhead," the voice snapped, slowly stepping out from within the darkness of the corner.

Elena's eyes grew wide. She sucked in a sharp breath, choking on her saliva in the process.

"Jeremy?" She rasped.

Covered in blood and soot, he smiled, showing his blood stained teeth.

"Hey sis."

Damon tugged Elena backwards, flush against his body, as she attempted to move towards her brother. The flashlight slipped between her fingers, clanging loudly to the ground. It rolled across the floor until it came to an abrupt stop, the beam of light shining directly onto Jeremy. He was shirtless with deep, red gashes covering his front.

"Don't," Damon snapped, his blue eyes never leaving Jeremy's dark ones.

She struggled in his iron hold. "He's not a vampire," she insisted, her voice breaking. "I _know_he's not. Let me go!"

Damon's cool cheek touched hers. "Listen because I'm only going to tell you once. I'm not batman. I'm not a goddamn superhero, 'Lena. And I'm sure as hell not a machine. I can't always rely on my vampire senses because they're not always accurate. And I'm _not_certain about your brother's fate, so do me a favor? Chill out."

Moisture pooled in her eyes. "He's _not_a vampire."

"Be as stubborn and annoying as you want, but I'm not sure what Jeremy is. End of discussion."

"Why don't you ask me, jackass?" Jeremy snapped, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at the two. "I _dare_you."

"Come on, Jer. Don't taunt Damon. You know him."

Jeremy's blood-stained smiled widened. "Exactly, sis. Why do you keep hanging out with him? Where's Stefan?"

Damon swore under his breath. It never failed that Stefan was brought into the equation. What the hell was everyone's fascination with his brother? He was too damn boring, didn't know how to lighten up, and was incapable of making any friends.

"Stefan isn't the concern, Jeremy," Damon muttered coldly. "You ran away from home and hid in an underground crypt. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Vampires love dark places. This seemed fitting."

Elena paled. "Why did you drink Anna's blood?"

Jeremy snarled. "Don't say her name!"

"I know exactly why." Damon eyed the angsty teen hatefully. "He wanted to die. He wanted a world where he didn't have to lose a family, but he also wanted a world where he didn't have to feel. Am I close?"

"Don't think your little speech made me forgive me. Your little forgetting trick screwed me up more than you can imagine…"

"What speech?" Elena eyed Damon curiously. "Am I missing something?"

"It's a story for another day."

"Wait," Elena breathed out slowly, the truth suddenly dawning on her. "Was Jeremy your failed and feeble attempt at doing the right thing?"

"He told me he watched Anna die in the fire." Jeremy seethed. "He deserves to die. I don't care if you were weakened by vervain, but you shouldn't have let her die."

The words were a heavy, concrete slab on Damon's mind. "You're right," he admitted. "I should have gone against Pearl, eradicated those damn vampires, and been aware of Jonathan Gilbert's grand scheme, and even predicted Bonnie's betrayal. Protecting doesn't come naturally to me, but I meant what I said that night. I _wanted_to help Anna."

"You didn't, and I'll always hate you for that."

"It's first love, Jer. You'll get over it." Elena's calm words were soothing and believable. Damon was always amazed at how well she kept things together.

"Shut up, Elena and go to hell. You're the reason that asshole compelled me in the first place, so don't expect any sympathy from me because I _still_can't look at you."

"Don't," she whispered, taking a tentative step forward with watery eyes.

"Elena," Damon warned, his hand lightly touching her shoulder. "He's unstable. He's delusional. He thinks he's dead."

"He's my brother. Regardless of what he is, he wouldn't hurt me."

"Don't..." Damon protested, but his words fell on deaf ears as Jeremy growled.

He bent his knees and charged forward, his body slamming hard into Elena's. She stumbled backwards from the force of the blow, quickly losing her balance. The back of her shoes slid against the slimy floor and she fell to the ground. Her head bounced against the pavement with a sickening crack.

Damon flew across the room, twisting Jeremy's hands behind his back and securing them with the sheriff's spare handcuffs. Maybe befriending Liz hadn't been the worst idea-especially when he had a penchant for snooping and taking things that didn't belong to him.

Angry, Damon snarled and shoved Jeremy to the floor. "Don't move, asshole. You're _not_a vampire and you nearly killed your sister. Seriously. I thought I was maniacal for a vampire, but that doesn't hold a handle to how much of a bastard you are right now."

Fear clung to Damon as he flew across the room, dropping to his knees and pushing hair out of Elena's pale face. His fingers reached for her wrist, pushing them flush against the surface. Her heartbeat was a little thready, and as his fingers prodded against the skull of her head, there was a moment where Damon mentally held a breath, hoping that he wouldn't find blood. A whoosh of air escaped from between his parted lips as his fingers touched a large bump. She'd probably be feeling it for a while, but at least she didn't have a head wound gushing blood.

"You're lucky," Damon hissed at Jeremy with the darkest, black eyes as he tenderly scooped Elena into his arms. "If you had killed her, I would have returned the favor faster than you can blink."

"Oh, I'm scared," Jeremy mocked, rolling his bloodshot eyes, as he squirmed on the ground. "Big, bad Damon has me shaking in my boots."

"Watch your tongue, kid," Damon warned, shifting Elena in his arms. "Being Elena's brother doesn't give you a get out of jail free card. So go ahead. Keep taunting and I'll snap your pathetic little neck. You're nothing more than a coward that doesn't know the half of it. So shut your cake hole about wanting to join the undead. You know _nothing_."

Jeremy's shoulders slumped, his eyes sweeping across Elena's still form. "Don't talk to me about what you think is best, Damon. I'm not the murderer here."

"Shut the hell up," Damon snapped, his resolve crumbling. "You don't know a thing about me, so you don't have the right to pass judgment."

Jeremy flashed his a cold smile. "Two way street," he sang, slowly drawing out the words.

Damon clenched his teeth. "After I tried to help you?" He kicked the dirt, sending a rock careering into the wall. "Gee, thanks Jeremy. With Stefan gone and Caroline in the hospital, you left your sister a mess. I'm so glad she means so much to you that you'd _try_to kill her. I'm really feeling the sibling love..."

Jeremy gave Damon a challenging look. "I'm already dead. Give it your best shot."

"Tempting, but I don't fight whiny, little _human_ bitches. Sorry."

Damon's cell phone vibrated in his pocket just as Jeremy shot him another dirty, narrowed look. He shifted Elena to his left hip, his right hand dipping into his pocket and pulling the sleek, black phone out; he didn't even bother to look at the screen as he flipped it open in fluid ease.

"Perfect timing, Ric," he drawled. "I'm glad you had to wait all this time until it was a convenience to call. When Elena wakes up, I'll make sure she thanks you profusely, teach."

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**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! I hope it was worth the wait. And everything will start falling into place by chapter 10, and you'll start seeing how the other characters will factor into the story. I just needed to take care of the Jeremy situation first.**

**Second Note: I'll probably edit this chapter in the near future again; heavily. So tell me what you think. And don't forget to review. I appreciate it so much.**


	7. Chapter 7

**chapter 7**

The Mystic Grill was a perfect change in scenery, Damon decided as he sat at the bar. Enough days had passed at the boarding house. And it became abundantly clear that Jeremy, in all his teenage angst glory, was becoming the absolute _worst_company in the world.

A change was long overdue.

Damon gripped the scotch glass tighter, teeth clenched and eyes clouded with anger. He and Alaric had decided it was best for Elena to be home with Jenna and keep up a ruse while Jeremy recovered in the cell. It occurred to him that Jeremy's recovery time was stretching from days to weeks, and as good as Elena kept secrets, he doubted it was a position she'd want to be in for much longer.

They needed a cover story, one that kept Jenna from asking too many questions. But, as days passed, concocting a story to thwart Jenna was becoming increasingly difficult.

How long could they really hide Jeremy? Damon wondered sourly.

The kid was a real thorn in his side—not wanting to eat or even speak. And the only time he spoke, it was to throw insults and make threats. Damon was sick of Jeremy and sick of being cooped up in the boardinghouse. Damon wasn't a mother hen or worse, Stefan. Of course, misery liked company, and Damon could imagine Stefan and Jeremy swapping stories and commiserating over happier times.

Not Damon.

Not _ever_.

Before he could get too worked up and plot ways to torment Jeremy when he got back, his thoughts were distracted by familiar footsteps creeping up behind him.

"Hello Ric," Damon sang, drawing out his words as the teacher slid into the leather stool beside him. "We have to stop meeting up like this," he whispered in faux paranoia. "People might start getting the _wrong_idea."

Alaric's lips stayed firm in a straight line. Not a flash of emotion. Not _anything_.

The guy clearly needed to work on his humor because his company was _nearly_as awful as Jeremy's.

"Let's move beyond the banter, shall we?" Alaric suggested heavily, dropping a manila folder onto the bar top. A few papers slipped out and Damon grabbed them.

"You came prepared. Good, Ric. I'm glad you're beginning to understand that we have a very give-and-take relationship. Of course I do all the taking, teach, but that's beside the point."

"Just shut up and read, Salvatore. I'm going out tonight."

Damon's eyes scanned the pages. After Alaric spilled the beans about finding paw prints in the cemetery and after hearing Elena's story about wolves howling, he was beginning to think there was more to the story. And just like Damon demanded of Alaric, he delivered and provided a stack of papers with documented wolf attacks. Some of the articles were from neighboring towns and counties, and Damon, as much as he hated to admit it, was impressed and grateful that's Alaric's history expertise would come in handy.

"Hot date?" He teased, eyes shining with amusement. "Shouldn't you be grading papers or planning lectures?"

"I would be if it wasn't summer, Damon. If you weren't so drunk all the time or thinking about Katherine..."

"Don't," Damon snapped, his hand slamming down onto the stack of papers. "This has nothing to do with that good-for-nothing bitch."

Alaric laughed. "Wait, I got the wrong one. Maybe you've been thinking about Elena."

"Contrary to what you may believe, I didn't decide on this watering hole so we could chitchat, Ric. This isn't a social call."

"Right." The teacher stared at him suspiciously, not buying the story. Damon was still Damon. That wouldn't change, but Alaric would have to be a fool not to realize what Elena did for him. She was good for Damon.

"Time for business." Damon riffled through papers. A change in topic was what he wanted most. "Tell me, do you have any experiences with werewolves?"

Alaric gave him an incredulous look. "Oh yeah. I was a regular Buffy in my hometown."

"Ric, Ric," Damon teased. He was unable to hold back his laugh. "Maybe you should leave the pop culture references for the capable, okay?"

"Cocky bastard," Alaric muttered under his breath, grabbing the stack of old newspaper clippings from Damon. "Maybe you can cut down on the insults. How about that? I'd like to get this over with."

"Okay, okay," Damon replied. "Chill, teach. I swear you're such a killjoy sometimes."

Alaric shot him a dark look, but ignored the statement. "Since we've established I'm not familiar with werewolves, any idea who it could be?"

"I'm thinking they're new. Transitioning, maybe. Probably don't know what they are. Werewolves are _never_stupid enough to leave tracks unless they want to be caught...or lure humans into traps."

"Humans?" Alaric echoed hollowly, his eyes widening in shock. "No. Damn it. You're not telling me that these wolves attack humans?"

"For sport. For amusement. Hate to burst your bubble of rainbows and sunshine, but they are predators. Carnivores."

Alaric knocked back a shot. "Damn it," he swore again. "Not only do I have to worry about your ass and Katherine's... but wolves now, too? This town is turning into a circus."

He smirked. "A regular Barnum and Bailey." Clearing his throat, he put on his "serious" face—his lips lowered into a thin line, both of his cheeks loosened, and his eyes lost their luster. "Now that we've realized that we have werewolves in Mystic Falls, let's talk defense strategy. I'm pretty sure that wooden stakes aren't going to help against them."

Alaric grabbed a pen from his back top, jotting notes on the back of a newspaper clipping. At Damon's intense stare, Alaric sighed and looked at the quiet vampire. "What?"

"Are you taking notes?"

"As a matter of fact, yes I am. I'll have you know I was a _very_diligent note taker in high school."

Damon barked out a laugh. "Really, Ric. As much as I appreciate your need to jot down my every word, how about you just listen, okay? I've never killed a werewolf before, so I'm only speculating what will work."

"You've never?" Alaric gasped. "H-how are we going to kill them then?"

"Patience, padawan. We need to narrow down a list with their weaknesses, first."

"I need another drink," Alaric murmured, sweat trickling down his forehead. "Just give me a minute."

Wasting time wasn't something either of them could afford.

"Well, hurry it up, then. The last thing we need is the Founder's Council getting a hold of this information. It will be worse than their anti-vampire crusades."

Alaric signaled the bartender to bring him another gin-and-tonic. Seconds later, a new glass was set in front of him. He swirled the liquid in the glass for a few moments before bringing it to his lips. Taking a long sip, he set the glass back onto the bar top and looked at Damon.

"Proceed."

Damon folded his arms and rested them on the counter. He leaned towards Alaric.

"I've heard stories about werewolves in a few different places but I'm not sure how accurate the information is. Some legends, including Hollywood tales, state that werewolves are vulnerable to silver. Supposedly, if you cut them with an item containing silver, you poison their bloodstreams. I've also heard that if you remove one of the werewolf's limbs, it cures the lycanthropy. But, I'm sure that if you cut its head off, it would die, too."

"How do you suggest that we find out?"

Damon looked pensive for a moment. "I guess we'll have to capture one and see which method works the best."

"I hope that you're not going to nominate me for the job. I'm more of a Van Helsing."

"I'm quite aware of what you are, Ric. I'll have to set up a trap at the cemetery."

Grabbing at the neck of his shirt, Alaric fanned himself and swallowed hard. He was barely over Founder's Day and the events that unfolded. Having an artillery of vervain darts and crossbows locked up at school was so much more different. He was just coming to terms with vampires running amok in town; he was just coming to terms with his ex-wife being a part of the undead.

"This is a little premature, isn't it?" He suggested, eyeing Damon wearily. "How do we know if they're werewolves? Couldn't they be native wolves?"

"Excellent point, Ric. I'm glad to see you're still with me." Grinning, Damon took a swig of bourbon before resuming. "The problem is that we don't know for sure, but I can sense that we're not alone."

"I thought you said Katherine is in town," Alaric interrupted. "Isn't she the one who wrote that message on Elena's wall?"

"Probably."

"So maybe it's _just_her."

"Are you serious? There's no _just_here, teach. We're talking about the mother of all vampires. She's more deadly than some pack of inexperienced wolves, and for all our sakes, you better hope that it's just Isobel or someone playing a joke."

"This seems above Isobel's league."

"Aww," Damon cooed. "Sticking up for her. How sweet." His expression darkened in a flash. "Vampires are capable of _anything_. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. Isobel might not be as wonderful as you remember. She gave Elena an ultimatum, Ric. It's time you stop thinking of her as a human because that Isobel is long gone."

"You're such a dick," Alaric hissed, waving down the bartender and ordering another shot. He needed something potent, numbing preferably. "I'm a borderline alcoholic. I have you to thank."

It was impossible for Damon to suppress a laugh.

"You had drinking problems long before me..."

"And you amplified them," Alaric cut in roughly. "Thanks for that."

Finishing the last of his bourbon, Damon pushed the glass away from him. Five glasses had been more than plenty. He was never a very good drinker to begin with. All the alcohol did was suppress his strong cravings. It wasn't as if he could snack on an unsuspecting human downtown because the tomb vampires had successfully stirred things up.

He'd never gone so long without fresh human blood, and with Stefan's blood bank contraband dwindling more and more each day, he had to diet.

And Damon loathed dieting. If he was hungry, he was going to eat.

No exceptions.

Until now.

Shaking the thoughts of a midnight snack from his mind, Damon turned towards a quiet Alaric.

"Now that the alcohol has done its job and you're a bit more bearable, how about we talk Jeremy. You need to come up with a cover story for Jenna."

Alaric shook his head and narrowed his eyes.

"Why me?"

"Please keep up, Ric. You're _closer_to Jenna. It's only natural that you'd have a better idea. If it was left up to me, I'd compel her and be done with it. Problem solved. Voila."

"I'm not going to be put in a position where I need to lie. Sorry."

"Now isn't the time for a guilty conscious. Do you want Jenna to find out about vampires? What do you think she's going to do when she finds out about Jeremy?"

"You're a dick for putting me in this position," Alaric hissed.

"And your petty insults are getting on my last nerve. Keep it together, teach. You have five minutes to find a solution. Then I'm out. I'm cranky and hungry. And frankly, if I wanted to hear melodramas, I'd go back to the boardinghouse and keep Jeremy company."

He surrendered. "Fine."

Damon grinned in triumph. Easy. It was _too_ damn easy pushing his buttons.

"Why don't we play the teenage angst card, then?"

Quirking a brow, Damon waited for him to continue.

"Elena can lock Jeremy's door and his connecting door from the bathroom. Then she can tell Jenna that Jeremy came home, locked himself in his room, and won't talk to anyone."

"Not too bad. Who knew you were capable of a worthy cover?"

"I work at a high school. I think I've heard and seen enough to come up with a few good ideas. Teenagers, when it all boils down, are the same."

"Real nice," Damon interjected, his tone slathered with indifference. "Fill in Elena on the details."

"Why don't you?"

"You're taking her aunt on a date, why can't you do it?"

Alaric growled lowly. "What's so important that you can't?"

"I have business to attend to. I need to rile up a certain Gilbert. You know, have fun and torment. Get in a little of what I do best before I waste this perfectly fine day."

"Unbelievable." He shook his head. "You're terrible, you know that. If that kid ends up permanently screwed up, that one's on you."

"Have faith, Ric," Damon chastised. "I have it under control."

And with a blinding smile, Damon grabbed the manila folder, tucked it under his arm, and left Ric at the bar.

Warm air rushed at him as he stepped outside the Mystic Grill, amusement alight in his eyes. He smirked to himself as he sashayed towards his favorite possession—his convertible Chevy Camaro. Just as he reached for the door handle, the sound of light footsteps echoed behind him. He whirled around in a nearly imperceptible blur and looked at the person standing before him.

Bonnie Bennett.

"Well, hello there, Bonnie. Did you miss me?" He said, his smirk widening.

"Don't try to be cute, Damon. I'm not here for you." She replied. Her dark eyes stared intensely at him.

"Oh, now you've gone and hurt my feelings."

"As if you have any feelings. You're a reckless monster that would have died in that fire if it hadn't been for Elena."

His jaw tightened. Bonnie had always been able to get under his skin and his patience was already worn down. He took a deep breath and stared back. Intimidation tactics were his go-to choice for trumping her.

"And, what do you want, _witch_?"

"I have a message for Elena," she stated coolly. "It shouldn't be too difficult for you to relay it, _vampire_."

Something about her request didn't settle well with him. During their last encounter, she made it abundantly clear that they weren't supposed to run into each other. If he didn't know better, he was beginning to wonder if the witch was stalking him, looking for _any_reason to kill him.

"What's the message?"

"Tell her that Caroline has woken up from the coma."

"Anything else?" He asked dully, egging her on. "How about our favorite son of Mystic Falls, John Gilbert?"

"He's of no concern to you," was her cold, clipped reply.

"Oh, he is very much a concern. He tried to kill my brother and me. It's not exactly forgive and forget material, is it?"

Her eyes glazed over, the irises intensifying in color. Damon stilled for a moment. Something was off with Bonnie. He tried to turn away from her but a sudden surge of energy flashed, slamming into his body with the force of a speeding freight train. Her power picked him off the ground and catapulted him over his car.

Damon landed on his back, skidding to a halt twenty feet away from the Camaro. He looked up to see Bonnie walking towards him. His eyes darted back and forth in confusion.

"Bonnie, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm only going to say this to you once." Her voice was flat, lacking any emotional tone. As the wind picked up around them, it blew her hair all over the place. She looked positively evil. "You will leave Jonathan Gilbert alone. You will not enact any plans of revenge on Mystic Falls. And, if you so much as kill one human being, I will end you. Do you understand?"

He shook his head slowly. "I understand."

"Good." She began to walk away but stopped and looked over at him. "Make sure you tell Elena about Caroline."

"I'll get right on that."

"Oh and Damon," she spoke in a lethal, cold tone, "I come from the lineage of Bennett witches. I _don't _answer to a Salvatore. You'd be wise to keep those snarky, little comments to yourself. If you ask me, it's going to kill you one of these days."

Damon watched as Bonnie pulled up the hood to her zip up jacket and walked away, her head down. It was so unlike her; it struck him that her personality was suddenly different. And there was something wrong with the way she spoke—as if she were devoid of compassion.

_She must be transitioning into her full powers_, he thought as he struggled to his feet. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. In the presence of a witch, a vampire would _always_lose. And with no one to guide her, Bonnie would become a threat to everyone—Elena included.

Somehow, he'd find a way to tell Elena the truth, but first he needed to set Jeremy straight.

**XOXO**

It was merely bad luck. Damon was convinced of it as he thought back to the earlier events at the Mystic Grill. He knew better than to have a secret rendezvous there—especially with the evil little witch keeping tabs on him. Surely, she knew the places he favored and the humans he could stand, but threatening him twice at the _same _location wasn't a wise judgment on her part.

He filed it away to simply bad timing. Bonnie was a witch. He'd deal with her later, preferably when he didn't have a mountain of responsibilities on his shoulder. Damon gave his word that he'd keep a vigil watch over Jeremy to guide him down the right path, but even he was having his doubts. Elena was crazy to think that Jeremy would care about what he had to say.

Damon lifted his head, the boardinghouse illuminated by the setting sun. But it was far from a happy reunion. The mere thought of dealing with Jeremy was more of an inconvenience than the dull ache in his side. As a vampire, he _always_healed. He hadn't. The witch had probably put a spell on him as a twisted way to prove a lesson.

He slipped through the front door.

"Hello Elena," he greeted cockily, walking into the living room where she was sitting on the couch. She was sprawled across the couch, reading_ Through The Looking Glass_. And it was such a familiar situation, like it had happened before. "I thought you were babysitting your aunt. Tire easily, huh?"

Elena put a bookmark between her pages and set the book on the coffee table. She watched out of the corner of her peripheral vision as Damon shrugged out of his leather jacket, allowing it to fall onto the floor in a heap. The movement caused his fitted black tee to ride up, exposing his chiseled stomach.

Heat flooded to her cheeks as she tore her eyes away from him. "I would say something snarky in return, but I have a good feeling you'd enjoy it too much."

He cracked a slight grin. She knew him all too well.

"Hey, you're the one who was all gung-ho about this little arrangement, so don't give me that look."

She sighed, realizing he was right. How did he _always_seem to be right?

"Okay. I'll bite. What are you doing here so early?"

"Minor complications...or not so minor. I suppose that would depend on your definition, wouldn't it?"

"And now you're avoiding the truth with cryptic responses." She rolled her eyes. "Which means that something _probably_happened."

"A few heart-to-heart chats and you think you know me? Shame on you, Elena."'

"Cut it out Damon." She frowned, frustration mounting. "You know I don't like being lied to..."

"Don't even try to lump me with that boyfriend of yours. I know where you're going long before you get there. Don't even try to lecture me." His words were spitting venom and so full of bite that Elena reeled as if she'd been slapped.

"Fine." Elena crossed her arms over her chest, ready to hold her ground and get the answers she wanted.

"You are such a pain in the ass," he exclaimed, releasing a slow, drawn out sigh. "Follow me. Walk and talk."

"Are we going to check on Jeremy?"

Damon snorted. "You already checked on him, I'm sure of it."

She put her hands in her pockets, unwilling to give him a direct answer. It was embarrassing when Damon seemed to know what she'd do more than Stefan. Was she that transparent? _No_, a voice sounded in her head. _You have more in common than either of you are willing to admit_.

"What makes you so sure?"

"You check on your brother a lot, especially in the past couple of days. You think no one is around when you slip in, but you're wrong..."

"B-but you feed at night," Elena interjected weakly. "Right?"

"Still enjoying Stefan's contraband. Not as fresh as I like, but tasty enough."

Damon led the way down the steps into the wet, musty-smelling basement. It was always pitch black and too quiet - the kind of place Elena had a hard time stomaching alone. She wasn't a machine; she was an overemotional, hormonal teenage girl, and she had seen more than her fair share of horror movies. _Nothing_good ever came out of very dark, eerily quiet basements.

"You're _really_not snacking on humans?" She asked quietly as they reached Jeremy's cell. Her brother was hunched in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, and a hood shadowing his face from view.

"Good evening, little Gilbert," Damon sang.

"Fuck you," Jeremy snapped.

Damon didn't flinch; he stayed perfectly still as if he were a statue. Elena's little brother had a lot of deep-seeded issues, but he had to snap out of it. Mystic Falls was rapidly turning into the supernatural capital of the world. And frankly, Damon didn't have time to babysit him and deal with teenage theatrics.

"Your sister is here—"

"Like I told her earlier, she can go to hell."

Elena quivered, unable to retain the sob from deep in her throat.

And it angered Damon to proportions he didn't know he was capable. Where Elena was concerned, he would do anything for her. It wasn't natural—these crazy emotions bouncing around inside of him. Vampires didn't give humans a second thought.

"Don't be such a dick," Damon argued back. "Show your sister some respect."

Jeremy muttered a string of curses. This destructive Jeremy was leagues beyond the point of no return, and Damon didn't have the patience to help him.

"Get with the program, Gilbert. You're not the only one who lost someone. So, do me a favor? Cancel the pity party and get over yourself. You're not a vampire."

"I am whatever I want to be. You don't get to tell me who or what I am."

The thin veil of patience was gone. It occurred to Damon that Jeremy was close to blowing his cover. And while he enjoyed ruffling the youngest Gilbert's feathers, he couldn't deny that Jeremy's problems were deeper than he could handle. It was the first, and probably only time, that Damon wished Stefan could walk through the door and take over.

He could _never_count on Stefan, though. Not when he needed him most.

Damon placed a hand on the rusted, metal door and glared at Jeremy. "Listen, I'm only going to say this once. Now that I have both of you together, I think you should know that Bonnie and I had another confrontation."

"B-Bonnie?"

Elena choked on the name as she thought about how distant her best friend had been lately. Ever since Bonnie rescued Stefan and Damon from the fire, she didn't return any of Elena's calls or texts. She even tried showing up at her house, but she was never around. Bonnie's behavior gave her the prickling feel that something bad, no something terrible was on the verge of happening.

"What did she want?"

"You know, the usual. To intimidate me with her threats and to have me pass along a little message to you."

"Me?" She asked, her voice cracking. "She doesn't return my calls or texts, Damon. Why would she tell you anything she wouldn't tell me first?"

"Because Bonnie's sick of your vampire BS," Jeremy cut in sardonically. He was on his feet, walking towards the front of the cell. "And so am I. You put all of our lives in danger just to save and protect your precious Stefan. He's so lame and so willing to be your doormat."

"I, I was protecting you, _too_." But even as she spoke the words, she couldn't quite believe them. What once had started off as a black and white situation, had entered the gray area. She was questioning keeping the truth from them, which she had always justified because it was Stefan's secret she swore to protect.

"Not going to work, Elena. You were wrong not to tell me about this from the beginning. Was keeping the truth everything you hoped it would be? Was destroying our home the desired effects you wanted?"

"Shut up, Gilbert," Damon hissed, his palms slamming hard onto the cell door; it shook from his sheer strength. "I have some news to share and you can either keep your mouth closed or I'll shove a sock down your throat—preferably one of Stefan's socks," Damon threatened. "And you should know that vampires _do_sweat and Stefan's feet are just as foul as when he was human. Comprende?"

"Unbelievable." Jeremy swore. "Why are you protecting my sister? Isn't that Stefan's job?"

"In case you've failed to notice, Stefan's enjoying a nice, little vacation outside of this shit hole. By default, I look out for Elena."

"Like you looked out for Anna?" Jeremy spat, anger multiplied. "Like you watched her get staked? I'm _so_glad to have you on our side when you can't even protect the people that matter to us!" He exploded.

"Jer, that wasn't his fault." She reached between the bars, wanting to touch his hand, but he backed away from the door.

"Like hell it wasn't, Elena. Anna's death is on him. For the first time in who knows when, I was actually happy! I was in love. _Real_love. I wanted to be with her forever, but now that can't happen. Do you fucking know what that feels like?"

"I know who killed her," Damon stated, his tone void of any emotion. "I didn't say anything because I thought it wasn't in my place, but since you keep blaming this on me, maybe you should realize that it was _your_damn uncle that staked her. He started the fire and left all of us to die."

"What?" Jeremy cried out, his body shaking. "You dick! Why would you say something like that?"

Elena spared a hesitant look at Damon. "He did try to kill them, Jer," she explained quietly. "There's a lot you don't know about John." Her voice quivered, and she really didn't want to do this now, but she had done enough damage to her relationship with Jeremy. Maybe it was time to repair whatever was left.

"Uncle John isn't..."

The words refused to form into one cohesive thought. What was she doing? Why was she trying to protect Jonathan Gilbert?

"He lied," she finally spoke. "I found out the night of the founder's parade that he's really my father."

"You're both liars." Jeremy clenched his fists together. "I don't believe a word you say. Leave. Me. Alone."

Damon crossed his arms across his chest and stepped back. He had said enough, and if he tried to get even more invested in protecting Elena, he was going to snap.

"I need a drink." His face turned pensive as he paused. "On second thought, I may need a few," he mused to himself, letting the Gilbert siblings battle their own demons.

"You should go with him, Elena," Jeremy spat at her. "I told you I don't want anything to do with you. Nothing's changed."

Defeat was etched all over her face. "What is it going to take for you to believe me?" she argued, the fight inside her dying. "Maybe we should take a trip to the hospital. Maybe you should see John in a coma. Will that bring you back to reality?"

"He's in a coma?" Jeremy whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. "Since when?"

"K...someone attacked him in _our_kitchen with a butcher knife. He lost a lot of blood. And then you went missing and so did Stefan. And..." She could feel the tears brimming, but she forced herself to keep it together. Elena was the big sister, and it was her duty to protect Jeremy at all costs. "I thought something bad happened to you."

"It did."

"You lost someone you love. You'll get over it someday."

"I don't need your false reassurance, Elena," Jeremy said. "This started because you wouldn't be honest with me in the first place. You didn't know a thing about Vicki and you sure as hell don't know a thing about Anna."

"Why'd you do it, Jer?"

"Why wouldn't I? I thought at least you'd understand - since you're doing the nasty with Stefan."

"Enough," Damon finally interrupted. "Elena, we're going upstairs. I _need_to tell you something." He reached for her arm, tugging her forward lightly, but she resisted and stayed in place.

"I need to fix this," she whispered, enunciating each word slowly.

"It's going to take more than one conversation." Damon glared at the cell. "Trust me. Some time alone will be good for him."

"But, Damon, I can't leave it like this. There's too much that I need to make Jeremy understand. What if I don't get another chance?" Elena's eyes were becoming moist; small tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

He sighed. "Elena, I'm telling you—he needs to let his thoughts run for a while. Humans need to do that."

"Are you sure?" Her lower lip jutted a little outwards.

"Yes, Elena." He replied, exasperated. "Now, let's go upstairs."

He offered her his hand in a sincere gesture. Damon had a feeling she wouldn't reach out because that wasn't something Elena would do. He was right. When she didn't reach for his hand, he grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her up the stairs with him.

This time, she didn't resist him as he led her into the den. When they reached the chairs, he guided her to one and gently set her down in it. He took the chair across from her and sat on it backwards with his arms folded across the top of the chair.

Elena's dark eyes looked into his. A strange surge of emotion washed over his body. _God, she has such a hold on me,_he thought. Averting his eyes a little towards the ground, he spoke.

"Bonnie also told me to inform you of Caroline waking up from her coma. Well, it was more like she commanded me but that's quite beside the point."

"What?" Elena exclaimed. "Why wouldn't Bonnie tell me that herself?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's probably a witch thing. She's so overwhelmed with her new powers that she is exerting them in any fashion that she can. Frankly, I think she may be over her head. You should have been there."

Elena's eyes flashed with concern. "What do you mean?"

"After she told me about Caroline, I might have said something to set her off."

"And?" She moved forward in her seat, suddenly anticipating and craving what he had to say.

"And, she used her powers to vault me over my car. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have that happen to me by a midget witch?"

"Damon, I don't think now is the time for your sarcastic remarks. What if Bonnie starts hurting people?"

"I don't think that Bonnie classifies vampires as people, Elena. She seems to only have a problem with Stefan and I. Everyone else should be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm hoping so. I'd hate for the townspeople to find out that the town's dark history really isn't history. Surely, you can imagine what chaos would ensue."

She bit down on her lower lip. "Maybe you're right. So, what can we do?"

"Right now, you should go see Caroline and leave your antagonistic brother to me. I promise not to kill him... yet."

"I'm trusting you to keep your word."

He raised his eyes to her. "Now, 'Lena, when have I never kept my word?" A smug look formed on his face as he got up, moving towards his stash of alcohol. "I'm not that terrible, am I?" He teased, bending forward to grab his favorite scotch glass.

Elena gasped. "Damon," she whispered, eyes trained to his back when the shirt had risen up. "Your back. It's bloody and scratched!"

"Just a little souvenir from your bestie. Don't worry," he reassured her, "I'm rather fond of battle scars."

"She did this? How?"

"Parking lot," was his short answer as he filled his favorite scotch to the brim of his glass. "Don't fret over the details, Elena. It'll heal. Sooner or later. Eventually. You know, something like that."

"But the blood is seeping through your shirt. Sit down," she ordered, jumping to her feet. "Let me see if you have a first aid kit and I'll be right back. And don't you dare take off, Damon. I mean it."

_Such a determined little thing_, he thought as he grabbed his glass and took a seat. His eyes met hers in complete amusement. "It'll heal. And you know it. Why bother?" It was a simple, harmless question.

"For my peace of mind. Please, Damon." She pleaded with her soft, watery brown eyes. "Let me help you. I promise I'll go afterwards. I promise I won't ask you about it again."

He waved her off. "Whatever. I'll be here, drinking. Don't take _too_long."

Elena didn't need to be told twice. She ran upstairs and rummaged through the cabinets of Stefan's personal bathroom. It was a neat room, very immaculately kept; it reminded her too much of a sterile hospital, and she had seen enough of those white walls to last her a lifetime.

She preferred the small bathroom downstairs. It was a little too kitschy, or at least that's what Damon would say. But that bathroom was very empty—only having a toilet and a mirror. Of course the hideous 70's era wallpaper wasn't doing it any favors.

A smile of triumph hit her as she found the kit, neatly tucked in the drawer below the sink. It was pushed into the back, probably Stefan's doing. With Zach dead, she couldn't imagine why a vampire would need a first aid kit, but she was grateful that Stefan was a bit of a pack rat and willing to hang onto things.

The white box tucked under her arms, Elena raced down the stairs. Unsurprisingly, Damon was leaning back into the chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table. The scotch glass was clutched in his right hand, and it was just about empty.

No surprise.

"Found it," she spoke up.

Elena knew she didn't have to say anything. Damon heard her long before she came bounding down the steps, but sometimes she couldn't help herself. As crazy as it sounded, when she was around Damon, she wanted to be more human than she already was.

"Finally," Damon chimed in. "Thought you found the rabbit hole."

Ignoring his remark, Elena opened the kit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages. It would be difficult to cover so much of his back, but she'd just make do with what she had. If need be, she'd run to the local pharmacy and stock up on larger bandages.

"How would you like me?" Damon asked seductively as she walked towards him. He grinned. "Your choice."

"You really are something." She shook her head. "Move to the couch and lay on your stomach. I want to see how deep the wounds are."

"Really," he interjected. "I'm fine, 'Lena. I know you find me sexy and want an excuse for me to take off my shirt, but I don't need to be coddled like a baby. Okay?"

"Don't be so defensive."

Pointing towards the couch, she watched and waited for Damon to move. Reluctantly, he peeled off his shirt and dropped onto the couch on his stomach.

_At least he's cooperating_, she thought gratefully.

"Should I strike a pose? Flex my muscles maybe?"

She laughed. "I don't think that's necessary."

"I know you love the Church of Stefan, but the Church of Damon is one service you won't want to miss."

Elena touched his back. The cuts weren't very deep, but she knew they could get infected. "Why isn't your back healing?" She asked as she dabbed antiseptic onto the wounds.

"Your bestie probably cast a spell on me. I'd guess a little warning. I doubt she's good enough to do anything permanent, _yet_."

This shocked her. "So, you don't know when or if you'll heal?"

Sometimes Elena was a little too oblivious for her own good. She was blinded by the old Bonnie, the one that was one hundred percent human until she became of age and her powers began to manifest and mature.

"It's not like I have Witchcraft For Dummies lying around. So how should I know?"

She lightly traced the wounds on his back. Even Damon couldn't deny the little tingle that shot through his body simply from her touch. He was in a world of trouble if he didn't contain his emotions; he needed to back away before he got too deeply involved with her. But it was probably much too late to slip through the back door. His feelings were growing and taking center stage whether he wanted them or not.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"For what?"

"Bonnie. I didn't think she'd hurt you."

Damon laughed dryly. "Why do you think that?'

"Because, you mean a lot to me," she told him tenderly as she began to dress his wounds. "Because, the Bonnie I know wouldn't _ever_hurt _anyone_that matters to me."

"Her actions are her own. Don't worry about it. I don't blame you."

At her heavy sigh of relief, Damon knew he was right. Elena blamed herself for Rogue Bonnie, but thanks to Sheila's rather inconvenient death, controlling her was virtually impossible.

"All done," she announced, closing the kit. "You can move now."

"Good." Damon sat up and put his shirt back on. "So, what's your plan?"

"About?"

"Bonnie. I can tell you to stay away and that she's dangerous, but I have a feeling you won't listen."

"Actually, I was going to see Caroline. Maybe, I'll run into Bonnie there."

Damon jumped to his feet. "On second thought, maybe I _should_go with. Don't worry. I know Caroline doesn't want to see me, 'Lena. I can't wait outside. And hit on those lovely nurses in short skirts..."

She slapped his arm playfully. "Don't be ridiculous, Damon. I can go by myself."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Elena slowly stood up and walked towards the front door. Her footsteps grew fainter as she exited the boardinghouse.

Damon waited until she was outside before letting out a sigh.

Things were becoming _very _complicated.

.

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.

.

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**Note: I am so, so sorry for the long wait. I haven't had as much time as I wanted to write lately, and I didn't want to post this until it was decent enough. Sorry that this chapter is so long but now many things will fall into places. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites. I appreciate it immensely and hope you'll still stick around. **


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Damon wasn't in the mood to answer his phone—especially not when it flashed: _Sheriff Forbes_. It was a tempting idea to let it go straight to voice mail. But the Sheriff was persistent, and she'd probably call and harass him until he answered.

He sighed, eying his dwindling collection of liquor; he was running low on his favorites. The scotch and bourbon were what kept him in check when blood was insatiable. Just because it was what his body needed—it didn't mean his body wanted it. Of course, he thought that over a century had been enough time to find a favorite blood, but it hadn't. Over the years it all started to taste the same to him—even animal blood. But Damon would _never_admit to Stefan that he enjoyed feasting on Bambi and friends every once and a while.

Everyone needed a few secrets. Even Damon.

Like how he had intense, seductive dreams about Elena. Or how, when he was sitting alone, he'd think about her and worry about her safety. It was an unhealthy obsession, and the one thing Damon knew about vampires is that they sure knew how to obsess.

He thought about Elena even when he didn't want to think about her. The past two days, she kept going to the hospital, insisting that she had to spend time with her _other_best friend, Caroline Forbes. Damon couldn't deny Elena that—even when he could clearly do without Caroline and her whining. But he didn't want to leave Elena there unguarded and unsafe with Katherine and wolves running amok.

_What the hell are you thinking, Salvatore?_His mind asked.

Damon swore and erased his mind. Blank. A clean slate. Peace. This was what he enjoyed, but thanks to his crusade to fool Liz Forbes with his 'I'm-a-vampire-expert' act, she'd be his go-to guy when the shit hit the fan. If the Sheriff, the last time he spoke to her, insisted that vampires weren't a threat, obviously they were dealing with something much, much more complicated.

Flipping the phone opened, he answered with faux jubilation. "Sheriff!" He exclaimed. "To what do I owe this surprise phone call?"

"Damon." Liz's tone was cold and hard. "We have a little situation."

Situation? He rolled his eyes.

"What's going on?"

With his superb hearing, he was able to dial into the faint background noise. To just anyone, it was mindless chatter that didn't mean a thing, but to do Damon, location meant damn well everything.

"It appears I may need your favor sooner than later," she explained in a hushed voice.

"I'm on the edge of my seat, Sheriff. Don't leave me hanging like that."

"I, I think you were right about the vampires, Damon. I didn't want to believe it when you paid me your little visit."

"What did you find?"

"We got a call first thing yesterday morning. There were reports of graves being disturbed at the cemetery. I sent my best deputy out, but I haven't heard from him since he called in to say he arrived on scene."

He clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Great. Just what he needed...to be indebted to the Sheriff over something that was most likely not worth his time. He had a date to drain some liquor bottles—not go out looking for a junior boyscout that had zero intuition or common sense.

"Is this unusual behavior?" He asked, cracking his knuckles, but unable to fight off the grin plastered across his face.

"Deputy Adams recently transferred to our precinct. He just finished his training at academy and was itching for his first solo call."

"So basically you're telling me we have an unexperienced kid wandering around with a firearm?"

"Ultimately, yes," she conceded. "Don't forget he was trained at a very prestigious academy. I'm sure he's fine...maybe."

He sighed.

A quiet morning in was a luxury Damon could no longer afford.

"I'll take a look, Sheriff. Hang tight."

**XOXO**

Noble wasn't Damon. He didn't itch to be the knight showered in attention; he rather enjoyed the darkness. It was his escape...only he hadn't planned on having to keep up pretenses with a barely, hanging-together Sheriff.

Deputy Adams, as far as he was concerned, was _nobody_at all. There were bigger fish to fry and in the grand scheme of things, he couldn't afford to make a little detour. But Liz had given him the resources to find Jeremy—even when it could have gotten her canned from the police department. Damon still didn't know whether to thank her or drain her dry for such accurate equipment in finding the youngest Gilbert.

But somehow, against his better judgment, he found himself back at the cemetery.

Parked just outside the main gate, was a police cruiser with the lights flashing, engine running, and door ajar.

Damon scowled.

Maybe Liz's fears weren't as off the mark as he hoped they were.

As he leaned into the car, inspecting it thoroughly, he noticed the CB was on and broadcasting messages about more grave disturbances spanning multiple counties. It was probably drunk teenagers wanting to get into trouble, but with the possibility of werewolves in town, the answers weren't always that black and white.

He reached across the passenger seat. A sleek, black cell phone was lying open. The screen was flashing over a dozen missed calls. Nothing about that was unusual, though. It jived with the Sheriff's story. But, since Damon had spent a lot of his years getting acquainted with technology, he noticed that Adams had a perfect signal.

Why had he left his phone behind? Why was the car running? Why was there no trace of him, anywhere?

The questions puzzled Damon. And he _despised_not knowing what was going down. As he stressed to Alaric, werewolves folklore was often as inaccurate as vampire folklore.

A quick perimeter check was probably a good idea. Adams wasn't dead. Or bleeding. He'd know otherwise.

At that moment, his phone rang.

Perfect.

He knew he was irresistible, but everyone's constant nagging was starting to get on his nerves. _How does Stefan do this?_Damon mused to himself as he slid his phone open without looking at the screen.

"Salvatore, Damon speaking."

"...Damon?"

The words broke apart as if he had a bad connection. He stared at his screen, exasperated; he had a perfect signal. Maybe Mystic Fall's cell phone service wasn't up to snuff.

"Elena?"

There was more static and breaking words. Even his great sense of hearing proved useless as he struggled to make out the words. Damon didn't have the kind of patience to fill in the blanks so he ordered Elena to immediately text him and he hung up.

Edgy. Annoyed. Hungry.

The feelings were strong enough to blindside him. He shook them away and entered the cemetery; he wasn't a foul, mangy dog with a keen sense of smell. But the moment he stepped on the cemetery's land, he felt a strange surge of emotion. Something wasn't right. He was acutely aware of how quiet it was. His skin tingled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Damon chided himself for showing a fraction of vulnerability. And compassion. Taking care of himself was easy enough. Anyone who got in his way was easy enough to eradicate. They were hardly a challenge unless they caught him off guard...like Lee had. As much as it pained him to admit it, Elena had saved his life; her humanity and love and need to protect was the reason he was still on planet Earth. It crossed his mind that maybe it would have been wise to bring back up, but he wasn't about to tip the scales in Alaric's favor by asking him to have Damon's back.

This is where his noble, human-loving brother would factor. If only Damon knew where the hell Stefan was.

His phone vibrated.

_**Caroline released. Taking her home.**_

Damon typed a response. _**Go directly to the boarding house afterwards. No questions.**___Satisfied, he sit send and jammed the phone back into his pocket. Elena would continue to text and ask questions because she always needed answers, but he'd ignore her objections. Besides, he clearly couldn't worry about her safety when he was doing dirty work for the Sheriff.

His head spun as his eyes darted across the graveyard, looking feverishly for signs out of place. He could feel the frustration and need for blood growing inside him as nothing caught his attention. And then, he turned to the left, and saw the crumbled ruins of decimated gravestones.

Lying nearby was a professional camera. _Probably Adams',_Damon thought as he blurred towards the crime scene. He smelled humans all over it. Nothing about the scene was supernatural. At least, not that he could tell.

Dropping to his knees, he pieced blocks together until he could make out a last name.

Lockwood.

Of course. Damon felt stupid for not remembering how the mayor died in the fire that night. It wasn't a mistake. He doubted John Gilbert would throw in humans when his agenda was all about the extinction of vampires...unless John Gilbert's plan to eradicate the supernatural wasn't limited to vampires.

He speed-dialed the Sheriff's number.

"I have some info, Liz," he explained cryptically before she even spoke into the receiver. "It appears either someone purposely targeted the Lockwood family...or we're dealing with teenagers. It's your call how you choose to deal with it..."

"What about my deputy?"

"No traces, Liz. I don't think bloodsucking fiends are the result of this."

She sighed heavily. "Are you sure?"

Damon detected the strain and tiredness in her voice. He was willing to bet that Sheriff Forbes wasn't telling him the whole story. Why would she stop the investigations on vampires? If anything, she was dedicated and headstrong. So, the real question was: what was she hiding from him?

"Positive. As for your deputy, I'll keep an eye out Liz, but this isn't my territory."

"No." She finally answered. "Don't worry about it, Damon. It was stupid for me to call. It's just, after everything that's happened, I was leaning, no hoping we were dealing with vampires."

"No worries, Sheriff. Oh and congrats on your lovely daughter being discharged today. It's a shame you couldn't take her home."

And just like that, she took his bait, and he knew something more was going on.

"I'm working a very important case. But thank you, Damon. And thank Elena for me."

He smirked. "Will do."

**XOXO**

Elena was punctual—a little out of breath, even. He grinned as she skittered into the living room with a heavy, lingering presence. Her shoulders were slumped, her hair was mused and perfectly unkempt, and the dark circles beneath her eyes proved that she hadn't slept properly in days. (And neither had he.)

"How's the outspoken blonde one?" He asked as Elena dropped onto the couch next to him.

She closed her eyes, head titled back and resting against the back cushion of the couch. Without looking of her, Damon realized that she reeked of exhaustion. He realized that her "tiredness" went beyond a little worry about Caroline or even Stefan. This was deeper, turning her into a walking, talking robot where she was just rolling with the punches.

Clearly this Elena was no fun. Damon's lips curved and he opened his mouth, ready to spew a biting, sarcastic response, but he couldn't force himself to speak the words.

She grimaced, finally opening her eyes. "Traumatized. I know you don't care about her because you fed from her..."

His eyes darkened and he whipped around to face her. "Caroline was a meal ticket. I won't lie about that. But if I wanted her dead, I would've drained her the first time. You know, I'm not one for delays."

"Not funny," she hissed. "Caroline is one of my best friend's, Damon. You could at least try to feel bad for her...for my sake."

He rolled his eyes and dramatically said, "Okay, Elena. I'm so sorry about Blondie. Do you think she'll be okay?"

"Unbelievable," she muttered, "ass."

"Hey, now, don't be like that. I said that I was sorry."

"Maybe apologizing without sarcasm would help your case."

"Sorry." He flashed Elena a flirtatious smile. "Not happening."

"Fine." She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Caroline is okay... kind of."

His brows furrowed. Suddenly, Damon wasn't feeling as playful or sarcastic. He, just like any other vampire, knew the power of compulsion, but the process wasn't that clear cut. It was impossible to gauge if compulsion stuck after severe head traumas; it was a thought he bounced around his head when he spent those few days at the hospital with Elena. If Caroline remembered _anything_, his cover was blown.

Damon clenched his hands into fists. It had been stupid and reckless to target Caroline Forbes in the first place. But he was hungry. And Caroline made herself an easy target. As he sat across from her the first day their eyes connected, he sensed her desperation. Besides, since when was Damon going to deny a pretty blonde of a good time, anyway?

It was what vampires did. There wasn't room to feel remorse with a lifestyle that required daily blood in place of food. And Damon hadn't been in Mystic Falls long. It was a perfect opportunity to have fun. At the time, much thinking hadn't been involved. Damon learned that the less he thought, the easier it was to survive as a living-dead creature.

"What does kind of mean exactly, Elena? Please, don't skimp on the details now."

"Honestly." She exhaled sharply. The day had clearly taken its toll on her. She wanted to crawl into her bed and sleep off the killer headache she had. "You're a bad liar, Damon. I know you don't care about Caroline. Why waste time talking about it?"

That first day in the Sheriff's office—when Damon had gone to Liz for a favor to find Jeremy—he remembered something she had said about Caroline. It was easy to forget with the erupting chaos surrounding him.

"Caroline is hysterical," Elena revealed carefully, her eyes traced to the burning logs in the fireplace. "The doctors had to sedate her not long after she woke up. She kept screaming that someone wanted to bite her and kill her and bleed her dry."

He felt the tension between him. It wasn't difficult to read between the lines where Elena was concerned.

"She...remembers. Doesn't she?"

"A little." Elena swallowed thickly. "Damon, they let me take her home, but the Sheriff has to monitor her closely. If the outbursts worsen, she'll be committed to the psychiatric unit at Mystic General."

"No one will believe her." He shrugged casually. Caroline was simply a casualty of his boredom. She was _only_alive and kicking because Damon didn't find her as a threat. His compulsion was flawless, but even he had to admit...he didn't consider a brain injury. And if she began to remember _anything_about him or vampires, he knew he'd have to step in. No questions asked.

"You can't risk this, Damon..."

"You mean Stefan can't risk his identity. I'm expendable. Collateral damage."

She frowned. "Don't talk that way."

"If it wasn't for Stefan, you wouldn't have anything to do with me, Elena. Stop trying so hard to say the things you think I want to hear."

Elena ground her teeth together. "I told you already, I care about you! What do I have to do to prove it, Damon?"

"Whatever." He shrugged. "What's your plan, 'Lena?"

"Compulsion."

The words—especially coming from her—made an involuntary shiver cross through him.

"Is that such a good idea? There's not a manual on compelling someone that's suffered brain damage. What guarantee is there that it will work?"

"There isn't. I just thought doing something is better than nothing at all."

Speaking his mind was the way Damon worked. To hell with consequence and disapproval. They were a few of many things he couldn't be bothered with.

"Need I remind you about Jeremy."

She winced. "That's different."

"Not really." He scoffed. "Listen, I'll deal with Caroline when it becomes an issue." At her all-knowing look he grinned. "If I wanted her dead, it would have happened months ago."

It was hard to trust Damon—even for Elena. There were days she struggled with how honest he was being. And there were days she wondered about Katherine. Was there more to the story than she knew? The slew of unanswered questions kept her up at night. But Elena had to remember: Damon _never_hurt her. He could have, easily, during the span of time they spent together... and alone. Hurt was never an answer to the equation. Even if he didn't admit it, the stunningly beautiful and human brunette, was a part of him; she was a part of his life.

"And judging from your silence, I know you agree." Damon flashed a toothy grin. "Caroline is okay. Let it be."

"I want to but..." Elena hesitated. What were the right words? "It's what I do; it's who I am. I _worry_, Damon. I worry so much."

A deep sigh came from Damon. He bit his lower lip and just stared at Elena, part in wonder and part in amazement; he was learning so much about her-like how she put friends and family above all else. And he remembered a time when she'd _never_dare to confide in him. He was a bloodthirsty monster, but still she stayed.

Night after night.

Day after day.

It baffled him to no end how someone so good, so selfless could exist. Because, if there was anything Damon knew, it was the power for all humans to put their own needs before anyone else.

"Stefan is alive. He'll probably show up when you least expect it. I can tell every time you're thinking about him. You have this look on your face like you've found home. And peace."

Elena felt the thickness in her throat as she struggled to swallow her saliva. Being here, so close to Damon, was beginning to do strange things to her. When she brushed against him in the slightest, she felt a shiver that rocketed through her body. It was a massive explosion of chemistry and lust and the need to touch his skin. And it was becoming more frequent. The touches and emotions she felt were growing harder to control and forget. She didn't want to be unfaithful to Stefan, though. She loved him, which was why Elena battled with her body for control.

But the fighting was futile.

The growing feelings she had for Damon, which were partly undefinable, were consuming her. It was hard to be in the same room with him when she had such impure thoughts.

And it scared her; it scared her to death because she had _never_felt like this with Stefan before.

"I..." She struggled for the right words. "I wasn't thinking about Stefan." As hard as she tried to disguise it, the sultriness won. The powerful look in her eyes gave her away.

Her pulse pounding was the only thing he could hear. It roared, overwhelming any sound. All he could concentrate on was her.

"You shouldn't say things like that." Composure wavering, Damon blurred to his feet. "We need to talk about werewolves and Jeremy. And that bitchy witchy friend of yours, 'Lena. Now's not the time to get sentimental."

There was no point in hiding the frown and disappoint. It covered her face like a Christmas tree all lit up.

"Stop trying to change the subject. You _always_do that."

Exasperation was winning. Damon let out a reluctant sigh and rolled his eyes. It seemed like they were always dancing around each other and giving lectures.

"I'm not a chick. Get over it, 'Lena. All I want to do is find Stefan, send Jeremy home, and let my nice, little life go back to normal."

"Normal?" Elena sputtered.

"Yes. Werewolves are in Mystic Falls. Vampires, unaccounted ones, are lurking around. Your brother is _still_refusing to grow up and get over himself. Maybe he should be the one visiting the hospital."

She exhaled sharply. "Do you think that's for the best? Is Jeremy..."

His eyes pierced into hers. "Out of control? In serious need of psychiatric help? Take your pick Elena; either way, he isn't the normal, angsty teenager anymore."

Her face fell. "I just wish that I could help him. It's my fault that he's like this. If I hadn't asked you to..."

Hesitantly, Damon reached out his arm and put his hand on her shoulder. He braced himself for the surge of heat that flooded his body whenever he touched her. This time, it was more intense than other times. A small muscle in his jaw tightened.

"Elena," his voice slightly strained, "None of this is your fault."

"How can you say that?" Twin sets of tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "Look at what happened because I wasn't honest with Jeremy. He doesn't trust anyone and won't even look at me. Even if he hadn't looked at my journal, he would have wound up finding out the truth. What type of sister does this to her little brother?"

"Technically, you're only first cousins." He emphasized his statement with doing his synchronized shoulder and eye movement.

She frowned. "I don't care that we're not biological siblings. He's still my brother. You should understand that."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Stefan told me that you are only half-brothers."

"Did he, now?" He dropped his hand from her shoulder. "I wonder why he told you that."

"It came up in conversation when Stefan and I were talking about your family."

Damon nodded his head. "I see."

"Stefan wasn't trying to lessen your fraternal bond. He just wanted to tell me about the Salvatore brothers, half-brothers whose friendship and love for one another was as much if not greater than full-blood siblings. You have to give him a little credit for acknowledging it."

"Maybe, just a little." He held his thumb and index finger a few centimeters apart.

Elena became silent; trapped in her thoughts. Damon despised silence. Almost as much as Stefan's rants about his woes.

"All right, Elena, Jeremy's your brother. But I'm still telling you that his downfall isn't your fault. You need to accept it."

Defeat heavy in his eyes, Damon knew he got through to her. She was stubborn - a lot like him in that department. She struggled to overcome obstacles, and it was almost as if he were staring himself down in the mirror.

"Good." He grinned. "If emo hour is over, I think now is as good a time as any to find out why werewolves are in Mystic Falls."

Hours holed up in the Salvatore Library had Damon angsty, hungry, and absolutely miserable. Doing favors for Liz Forbes had been his way of making sure that his and his brother's true identities weren't compromised. They had done each other countless favors, and it should have ended there. It didn't.

The Sheriff was the easiest avenue to locate Jeremy and to placate a very upset Elena. At the time, it was a favor worth granting, but dead bodies popping up in Mystic Falls would pose as a problem. He still had to find Saint Stefan, and he had to deal with Katherine. Even John Gilbert had to be dealt with at one time or another. And then there was Caroline and the compulsions wearing off.

Damon wasn't the do-gooder.

Helping with the missing deputy was simply returning a favor, but Damon knew that it wasn't a case of some native, Virginia wolf or getting lost in unfamiliar, thick woods. His mind kept flashing back to the Lockwood headstone and what it could mean.

Even Jeremy was helping. Reluctantly, Damon decided to let him out on good behavior, but one eye was _always_trained on the unpredictable, youngest Gilbert. If there was any sign of trouble, Damon didn't object to throwing Jeremy back into the cell.

Elena had been staring at the vast collection of books for the past ten minutes. Damon waved his hands around, trying to get her attention. She didn't seem to notice his ridiculous gestures. He sighed then went back to reading dusty book spines. When she was ready, he knew that she'd talk.

It was early morning when Damon decided that they all had been searching for long enough. He wiped his dusty hands onto his pants and turned to face Elena and Jeremy. Both of them were engrossed in reading various passages of potential books. Clearing his throat, Damon waited to have their attention.

Jeremy was the first to tear his eyes away from the pages. Elena followed suit a few seconds later. They looked up at him and watched as Damon made an irritated face.

Damon crossed his arms leaned against a bookcase. "I think it's safe to say that we're getting absolutely nowhere."

Elena shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "We're trying the best that we can. It's not our fault that you practically have the Carnegie Library in here."

He let out a light laugh. "This library is nothing in size compared to the Carnegie Library, 'Lena. Hell, it's less organized, too."

"That's not my point, Damon. How do you expect us to find something with the multitude of books scattered amongst the bookshelves?"

"I don't."

Surprise was evident on her face. "If you didn't think that we would find anything, why did you have us look?"

"To cover our bases, of course. I couldn't in good conscience _not_ try to find information in my own home. That would be quite reprehensible of me."

"Damon," she drew out, "we wasted a whole day on nothing."

"I wouldn't say that, Elena. We did find out something."

"And, what's that?"

"The information we seek obviously isn't here."

Jeremy leaned back in the recliner that he was sitting in. It was a nice change of scenery from the musty, damp basement and the four walls of the cell, but he was only helping because Damon made him.

If Jeremy had it his way, he'd rather be as far away from his lying, scheming sister as possible. He knew it'd be easier to just forgive and forget - bury the hatchet so to speak - but Jeremy was a long ways away from giving her the benefit of the doubt or _ever_giving her a sincere smile, again. After all, she had inadvertently caused Anna's death, and he just couldn't accept that.

"Nice, _Damon_," he snapped, venom seeping into his words. He slammed the ancient book closed and dropped it onto the table in childish defiance. "So, this was all just a stupid errand?"

Damon held up a finger. "Now, now, children. I didn't say that."

"What are you trying to say, then?"

"I'm merely suggesting that we look elsewhere. Like," he pauses, "the Town Records, for example. I'm sure that there will be something in there. Or, if I must, I can try to get a hold of the Council's archives."

Elena's eyes narrow. "How do you expect to get anything from there?"

"Let's just say that I have a charming personality for a reason."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Damon called it "charming the pants off the sexy, redheaded secretary", but Elena preferred to think of the eldest Salvatore as using compulsion to get results. She wasn't about to deny that half the time it wasn't necessary to compel his sex-slaves into getting what he wanted because Damon had the good looks that made women fawn over him.

"Wow. Jealousy for the wrong brother," Jeremy muttered, arms crossed across his chest, as he stood statue-like behind Elena. "First you lie, make executive decisions for people without their consent, and then you have the nerve to be unfaithful to your saintly boyfriend. Setting such great examples, sis."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, letting the cutting remark roll off her back. Jeremy held grudges for a long time and she didn't expect their relationship to miraculously improve overnight; but she expected Jeremy would act more like an adult and less like a five-year-old that didn't get whatever he wanted.

Couldn't it just be a stalemate already?

"I think he's done."

Jeremy shrugged. "And?"

"And we should follow him, Jer. I know you hate me and aren't about to forgive me anytime soon, but don't you want answers? Don't you want to protect our home? Things are happening all around us, and as sucky as our sibling relationship is right now, I don't want you dead. Or, anyone else. Can't you just try to be civil this once?"

"Damon doesn't need my help, and I'm not about to offer it to you freely - not after I did all that reading earlier for _nothing_."

"Mr. Saltzman had to go out of town for a few days. We could really use your help, Jer."

"Whatever. I'll do this for Mr. Saltzman, but don't think this is me forgiving you."

Elena couldn't help it. Her heart plummeted. She couldn't take Jeremy hating her for much longer. It was tearing her to shreds, bit by bit.

Time for it to stop.

"Please, Jer. Why can't you just let this go for now? It's not all my fault. I wasn't the one who killed Anna. I didn't set the fire or stake her. Your so-called hero and savior, Uncle John, deserves some of the blame. There's a lot more to what's going on than what you read in my diary. You have to listen to me."

Jeremy scowled. "How many times do I need to tell you, I don't trust anything that comes out of your mouth."

"Jeremy, just let me tell you the whole story," Elena begged with sad eyes. "And, then, you can think however you want."

He threw his hands up. "Ugh, fine, Elena."

She began the complicated story with the discovery of her birth mother, Isobel; about her being a vampire and what she had done to Matt as a threat if the Vampire Incapacitor wasn't given to her. Reluctantly, she explained Isobel's connection to Katherine. Jeremy stopped her right then.

"Wait. Let me get this straight — the vampire that turned Damon and Stefan not only was getting rid of the tomb vampires but she's also your ancestor? Elena, this sounds too far-fetched even for you."

"I didn't say that it was easy to hear. I'm not done yet."

Elena continued explaining Katherine's involvement in past and present events. She breathed heavily as she told him about what really happened to Uncle John. Flashbacks of finding John bleeding profusely on the kitchen floor flooded her. She couldn't speak for a moment until she regained her composure.

"Uncle John had lost his usefulness to Katherine. She couldn't let him live, knowing that he could warn the Founder's Council about her plans. That's why she had to cut off his finger before she stabbed him. His ring, one of a twin set made by Emily Bennett, protected him from dying on other occasions. Without it, he was rendered helpless. And, now you know why he's in the hospital."

She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out John's ring. It had been carefully cleaned of blood by Damon. Elena held it out to Jeremy.

"Take it," she said. "I can't bear the thought of Katherine trying to hurt you to get to me and Damon."

Jeremy stared at it for a few seconds. Thoughts crossed his face; a mix of hesitancy and distrust. Finally, he reached for it and slid the ring out of Elena's outstretched palm.

"What do I do with it?" He asked.

"You put it on one of your fingers. The enchantment does the rest."

Slowly, Jeremy slipped the ring onto his left middle finger. He moved his hand side-to-side, watching as the black stone shone in the florescent light. Letting his hand fall to his thigh, he waited for Elena to continue.

"Katherine left a message in Uncle John's blood that was directed towards Damon. She's angry and very unpredictable. We haven't seen Stefan since the Founder's Day parade so there's a good possibility that she could have taken him hostage."

"What if he went with her willingly?"

Elena's eyes darkened. "He...he wouldn't do that to me. There's no way."

"How do you know? After all the things that I read about him doing, this wouldn't be a surprise."

"Jeremy! Don't say that! Stefan would never go with Katherine unless he was left with no other option. He hates her!" Elena's fists were shaking as she was overcame with emotion. The thought of Stefan betraying her was sickening. He swore to her that he'd never want to see her again. She had to believe that. She had to.

When she calmed down, she finished summing up the recent discoveries made at the cemetery while they were looking for him. She also spoke of what she overheard about Tyler crashing and his supposed eye change. He raised an eyebrow.

"The Lockwood's? Oh, that's just too rich." Jeremy scoffed.

"What do you mean, Jer?"

"I always knew that there was something wrong with Tyler's family. Do you remember when we got into a fight at Career Night? When we were outside, his father got really weird. It was like he became...animalistic."

"Animalistic?"

"Yeah. He seemed to be like a pit bull — ferocious and wanting bloodshed. He kept telling Tyler and me to fight. What type of dad tells his son to do that? Maybe they're mutants or something."

The side of Elena's mouth quirked. Something had clicked inside of her mind and she desperately needed to talk with Damon. She looked over at Jeremy.

"Hey, Jer. I need to talk to Damon for a moment. I'll tell you the rest when I get back."

He crossed his arms. "Fine. But, you two better not be making out."

"Jeremy! I'm with Stefan! I wouldn't do that to him."

"Sure," he said as Elena walked in Damon's direction.

He wasn't convinced.

**X0X0**

The trio were crowded in the small room with endless stacks of the town's records surrounding them. Little was spoken as they riffled through page after page of documents, hoping for the slightest bit of answers.

While Damon reveled and worked better in the silence, the awkward, tension-filled room was making it harder to concentrate and make any headway. It hadn't been his first idea to cart Jeremy along, but he couldn't stay locked up in the cell forever. The little brat had to be dealt with.

He skimmed over another page before he sighed angrily.

"Since it seems like none of us can play nice, I thought you'd like to know that Sheriff Forbes' favor turned up some bizarre results.

Elena whipped her head in Damon's direction. "What do you mean?"

"She sent out a new deputy, Something Adams, to investigate a call they received about the cemetery. Liz called him for hours without answer. And that's where I came in. I went to take a look around, not expecting anything." Damon paused. "I found his car. Empty. No trace of him, anywhere. I scoured every acre of the cemetery, too. It wasn't until I was doing a final sweep of the area when I realized there was a decimated headstone in the distance. Low and behold, the last name was Lockwood. Couldn't make out the first name, but I'll say it's not a coincidence that this headstone was targeted."

"I wonder if it's an ancestor of Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood?" Elena wondered. The Lockwood's were a high-class, elusive family. What she knew about them was very limited. Even her parent's had indifferent attitudes about Carol, Richard, and Tyler.

"I don't know Elena. I'll need to get my hands on the council's records, but they're most likely very well hidden and under lock and key."

Damon scowled. It didn't matter how fast, smart, witty, dazzling, or charming he was, Liz wouldn't tell him where or how to find the records. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of compelling her, but even after working for her, Damon realized that the Sheriff was very low on the importance scale when it came to the Founders' Council.

"Maybe I can get them," she suggested, remembering that her family was once thick with the town council. Surely there had to be clues around the house. Aunt Jenna would probably know where to look first.

"No. Very bad idea. The Gilbert's aren't high on the council's priority list right now."

"I thought you said the council split up after the fire?"

"That's what I thought. The Sheriff made it sound that way - as if she's the _only_one not believing that all of this is over - but I don't buy it. She's hiding something big that prevented her from picking up her own daughter from the hospital."

"If she's hiding something, Caroline could be in danger."

"Caroline is perfectly safe," Damon assured her.

"But if she keeps talking about vampires and the sheriff knows about werewolves..."

"I never said anything about the Sheriff and werewolves, Elena." Damon stared at her, unwilling to blink, as he tried to gauge how she was privy to information he hadn't told her.

"Give me a little credit, Damon. I can read between the lines."

"Fine. Whatever. Still, we're left with little to go on. We need to find _anything_about suspicious wild attacks. Maybe cross reference those with full moons."

Elena frowned. "I thought you don't know the exact rules for werewolves."

"Mmm Hmm," Damon muttered, his eyes flitting to hers. He had to admit; he was impressed. She had read the werewolf file Alaric had given him first, and she remembered details clearer than he expected. "However, I'm sure Jeremy here needs to be brought up to speed."

Jeremy grunted, pulling the hood to his sweatshirt tighter around his face. He wasn't in the mood for any of this; he had just battled with Elena in the lobby, and he didn't have the strength to put up his fists and continue fighting.

"Werewolves?" Jeremy scoffed, toying with the ring on his finger. It was beautiful, mystifying, and he was unable to stop looking at it. "Not about to buy into that load of supernatural bullshit. Sorry. Wake me up when you find something realistic." He leaned back into the chair, his head resting against the wall as he forced his eyes closed. When no one was looking, he protectively covered his hand with Uncle John's ring; it meant something to him - especially since he no longer had his father's pocket watch. This time, he wouldn't let the family heirloom out of his sight.

Elena opened her mouth to protest. She had poured her heart out in the lobby, sharing all of the details of everything that had gone down in the recent months. It was about time she was on a level field with Jeremy, but they each stood on unleveled ground; it became clear to Elena that it would take more than the brutal truth and apologies to earn Jeremy's complete forgiveness, but at least he was bearable and had turned down the teenage angst a few notches.

Still, she couldn't let him sleep while she was stuck reading text that blurred into the same words after a while. The same worked for Damon. Too much hard work had been invested into finding answers, and she wasn't about to let her brother slack off like he had the right to do whatever he wanted.

"No, 'Lena. As much as I'd like to put him in his place, we don't have time for these petty arguments. Look." Damon pushed a folder with old, yellowing documents across the table. Elena reached out and grabbed them. "Animal attacks. Pre-dated to when vampires came to Mystic Falls. I think it might be worth looking into."

_1841_

_SAVAGE ATTACKS have fallen upon Mystic Falls. A local family found shredded in their wooden cabin beyond the outskirts of town. Coroner confirms a wild animal is accountable for the deaths. _

The words were heavily faded, and Elena failed to translate the old, English text into modern words and phrases she could understand. "I can't read all of this, Damon. I feel like I'm trying to decipher Shakespeare's writing."

Damon laughed a cocky, loud laugh. "The article goes on to explain that an autopsy was performed, but there was no official cause of death or ruling on what happened. Of course medical techniques were limited during those days, so unless the cause of death was obvious, many were left with 'unknown cause of death' slapped onto the files. The case is still left unsolved..."

She bit on her lip, a nervous habit. "What's so special about that? Vampires could have been in Mystic Falls before any of the council knew. Look how long it took them to learn the truth about Pearl and Katherine."

"True, but if that were the case, the bodies would be bled dry. The article clearly dictates that the victims were laying in a pool of their own blood. Now, tell me Elena, what vampire would kill three humans for blood but not drink a single drop?"

"I don't know." She shrugged helplessly. "If we're searching for werewolves, clearly there have to be more than just the Lockwood's..."

Damon realized that much of the day had been counter-productive. First, a bust at the library. And second, nothing solid in the town's archives. If more attacks were left out of the local papers, there was no telling where to start or who was targeted. And while the Lockwood's were a solid lead, there was no way that Damon could obtain that information without help... and superhuman muscle.

_Thanks for going off the rails, Stef,_ Damon thought to himself. _Could really benefit from your sorry, melodramatic ass right now_.

"The Lockwood's could do us a lot of good, Elena. With the Mayor dead, I'm sure we can expect more of their family to drop into town. One of them will slip up."

"Actually..." Jeremy chimed in, "Tyler's uncle is in town."

Confused, both Damon and Elena spun around to stare at Jeremy suspiciously, trying to figure out how he could know anything when he'd been in the dark and out of the loop for so long.

"Wait. You hate Tyler. The two of you have been at each other's throats since Vicki. How would you know anything?"

Jeremy threw his cell phone onto the table. "I had really good reception in The Pit of Despair. Facebook was a nice waste of time."

"You have Tyler on Facebook?" Elena asked, shocked. Her outcasted, loner brother hardly seemed the type to engage in social networking sites - let alone befriend a high school enemy.

"No. I did hack his account, though. I'll say his password wasn't very creative...Vicki? Seriously. He must've been inhaling that jock strap for too many years and the sickening stench is successfully killing off all his brain cells."

"Okay." Elena tried to regroup and steer the conversation back on track. Her eyes met Damon's in uncertainty. "If what Jeremy said is right and Tyler's uncle is in town, what do we do?"

"Nothing," Damon interjected. "I'll hit the bar. Judging on the Lockwood's places of habits, I'd say the Mystic Grill is a good place to start."

Elena sighed. "So we're back to you playing the Lone Ranger? Great." Sarcasm radiated from her words.

"No offense, 'Lena, but you hardly know how to handle a situation like this. I'm being nice by keeping you in the loop, but this doesn't mean I want you to jump on the bandwagon rashly. Besides, we've been down this road before. I am much more capable of handling the situation effectively without being concerned for your safety."

They continued to argue, neither allowing the other to have an inch. It was enough to skyrocket Jeremy over the edge.

"Damon's right," Jeremy agreed between clenched teeth. "Shouldn't we deal with things like Aunt Jenna, first? I don't want to spend another day in that hellhole."

"Aunt Jenna thinks you're at home, Jer. You're locked in your room but not talking to her. I'm not sure if going back is a good idea..."

His eyes narrowed. "I hardly see that as your call to make. I'm obviously not a vampire. I won't lie and say that I didn't want to become one, but I'm sick and tired of you getting the final say, Elena."

"What do you suggest, then?"

"Let me go home and fix things with Jenna. And let me talk to Tyler. He'll be less suspicious if I show up."

Damon clicked his teeth together, not liking the idea of Jeremy getting involved.

"Not today," Damon finally said. "Not even an hour ago, you were at Elena's throat. I don't care if you've called a truce or decided to play nice, but I don't trust you right now. Maybe prove it and I'll consider."

Jeremy looked miffed. "I wasn't looking for your approval."

"No, but you know shit about werewolves. They'd tear you to bits before your puny, stoner brain could decipher what's going on."

"I don't do that shit anymore," Jeremy protested.

"I know," Damon answered in his cocky, all-knowing voice. "I made sure of that."

"Stop guys," Elena interjected, getting to her feet uneasily. "Right now we need each other. Let's get through this. Once it's over, we'll go back to hating each other. Damon, you stay with Jeremy. And I'll go see Caroline. Maybe I can find a lead about the case there."

**X0X0**

Caroline Forbes was a shaking, fragile eggshell.

The two sat together on the couch, staring at a blank TV screen. It scared Elena how glazed and empty Caroline's eyes were. The car accident had clearly taken its toll on her best friend. She had been so bubbly, so upbeat when they left the hospital, and it made the wheels grind in her mind.

Had something happened?

"Are you okay, Care?" Elena asked softly, tenderly even. Treading lightly was the only one to approach the situation.

"I... I had a dream," she responded in a shaky voice. "Someone attacked me."

Elena's heart hammered in her chest. It couldn't be... could it? The fresh dam of tears was about to burst through as Caroline sobbed, her lower lip trembling.

"It was _so_real, Elena. He'd bite me and look into my eyes. I saw death."

Death. The word caused Elena to shiver in sheer terror. She reached for Caroline's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"What else?"

She shook her head, her blonde locks falling into her face. Her usually tamed hair was frizzy and uncombed, full of knots. She wore an over sized t-shirt that Elena remembered Caroline's father wearing once. It practically fit her like a nightgown.

Caroline was a girl who always looked pretty. She was always on a mission to look perfect. Her best friend didn't wear over sized t-shirts or pajamas. She wore frilly, barely there lingerie or skimpy, cotton mini dresses to bed. This Caroline wasn't her friend; Elena refused to believe it.

"He'd just look at me. He made me do things I didn't want to do..."

Her heart plummeted through the floor. Damon. She was accurately describing what Damon did to her under compulsion. The thought alone shattered her heart into thousands of tiny, unfixable pieces. Those were the times of careless and ruthless Damon. This wasn't him now, but no matter how easily she got over the things he did in the past, she realized that Caroline would be hardly as forgiving. And Elena didn't want her to be.

Elena rubbed soothing circles around Caroline's back.

"Did this happen to you?"

"No," she exhaled shakily, "it _happened_to you. I was you. And I know how confusing it sounds, but it wasn't me because she had your face and voice, Elena. The monster came for you."

No matter how hard Elena struggled to keep her composure, the terror was there, shimmering in her eyes. Dating Stefan had opened her up to so many doors. There was little that scared her or made her heart pound uncontrollably, but she couldn't come to grips with the fact that Caroline dreamed of a "monster" finishing her once and for all.

"Why?"

"He wanted to prove he was dangerous. H-he told me he was in control and that I'd be dead because... once a monster, _always_a monster."

Chills covered every inch of Elena's skin. Was it even possible? Was Caroline dreaming as her and was Damon the monster? She swallowed the lump in her throat; she wasn't ready to believe that Damon was the big, bad wolf. It didn't fit. Why would he be so protective of her if she were expendable?

No. Elena shook the doubts from her mind. She couldn't think of this now - not when she needed to find some clues to the whereabouts of the council's records. Thankfully, Liz Forbes was still at the station, and Caroline was still heavily sedated from her medicine. All she needed was an opening to slip upstairs. She couldn't disappoint. It was up to her to provide a lead.

But how productive could she be when thoughts of Damon, the self-serving psychopath with no redeeming qualities surfaced and clung to her mind? It couldn't be him... right?

"Care," Elena shifted onto the couch, wincing as pain flooded her lower back. It was the kind of couch you sunk into, struggling to get out of. "I need to use the bathroom. I'll be right back."

The blonde merely blinked and lightly nodded. It was unlikely she'd get anything more out of Caroline for the night. Maybe after a few days of rest, she could ask about those dreams; maybe it was just the painkillers talking because Elena couldn't stomach the idea of a reckless, villainous Damon coming back.

She tiptoed out of the living room, her feet touching the landing of the steps when the front door blew open.

"Elena," the voice spoke, surprise ringing through her tone. "I didn't know you were stopping by."

"It was a surprise visit." Elena choked the words out quickly. She didn't like that all of this "secret keeping" was making her a good liar; she spun around, forcing a smile at a very worn and tired Liz Forbes. "I haven't been the best friend lately. I just wanted to be there for her."

The Sheriff pushed the door closed softly behind her. Liz stepped into the foyer, her eyes trained to the staircase. "Where were you going?"

"I needed to use the bathroom," she answered smoothly. "Then I was leaving."

"Oh." Liz threw her keys onto the small, end table that was positioned in the corner of the foyer by a large, fake foliage plant in a pot. "How is your brother doing? I heard Damon found him."

Elena nodded quickly.

"Yes. He's really upset right now. He's struggling to handle what happened to Uncle John, but I think he'll be okay."

Liz gave her a sympathetic smile. She didn't much about Jeremy Gilbert, but what she did know, he didn't have the cleanest, shiniest reputation. From the way Grayson and Miranda had spoken, Jeremy had always been a handful.

"I'm glad." The sheriff slid out of her jacket and set her gun on the end table beside her. "Hey, Carol Lockwood invited Caroline and I over for dinner. Maybe you'd like to join us? I'm sure one of her best friend's at her side would be comforting."

The Lockwood's? Elena didn't know how to answer that question. She'd barely spent any time inside the Lockwood Mansion for intimate settings. It was parties with crowds of people she could get lost in.

"I'll have to call Aunt Jenna first. I don't know what we're doing for dinner tonight."

The realization hit her in an instant. She wouldn't be digging for any info tonight.

"Oh, right. I'll just use the bathroom and I'll go. Sorry for the inconvenience, Sheriff."

It was hard to be sincere. Damon's impatience and sarcasm and his personality was rubbing off a bit on her.

"Sure." The Sheriff forced a blazing, wide smile. "The Gilbert's are always welcome here."

"Thanks, Sheriff."

Forcing a smile in return, Elena spun around, and hurried up the steps two at a time. She had almost been caught red-handed. A screw up like this had to be avoided in the future; a screw up like this meant she'd have to beg for Damon or Jeremy's help. If she wasn't met by resistance, it would be a miracle.

At the top of the landing, Elena took a stealthy sweep of the upstairs. Everything looked in place and just as she remembered from the last time she visited the Forbes' residence, but something felt off. The feeling that she was being watched made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she hurried for the bathroom, keeping her eyes trained straight ahead. As she was about to close the door, she saw a camera positioned at the corner of the room with a full view of the upstairs.

Elena leaned against the door. She exhaled a shaky breath and dug through her purse for her phone; she had to tell Damon.

What kind of person kept security surveillance of the inside of their home unless they were specifically trying to catch something?

Damon had to be right. Liz was up to something, and she wasn't sharing the details with _anyone_. But the question was: what was the Sheriff up to and what was she going to such lengths to hide?

_The founders' records,_Elena thought. _It has to be_.

She speed-dialed Damon's number. A text would be less suspicious, but a phone call had to suffice. She had to hear his voice and hear the trust in her voice before she was willing to tell him anything.

It rang twice before he answered in his usually, cheery self. "Lena, just how covert were you trying to be? Off the grid? Not very wise."

"Stop." She fought to hold back the laugh. The dream had to be _nothing_. Clearly, the Damon Salvatore she knew wasn't a monster. A silly, little dream wasn't about to alter her point of view. "I almost got caught by the Sheriff."

Damon tsked. "Sending a woman to do a man's job..."

"Hey, no need for the chauvinistic remarks, Damon."

"Right," Damon's voice rang out, "do continue. I'm _all _ears."

"She has surveillance set upstairs. I'm in the bathroom right now, but I think you're right. The Sheriff is hiding something."

His tune changed in an instant. "This means you get your valuable ass out of there now before she pieces it together. Capische?"

This time she didn't bother to hide the smile as she promised to leave immediately. She hung up and flushed the toilet. Nearly five minutes had passed. Unless she came up with a convincing story about something upsetting her stomach, there was no knowing what Liz would think.

Washing her hands in record time, she walked as calmly as she could down the steps. Not seeing the Sheriff or Caroline, she took this as a good sign, yelled her goodbye's, and power-walked towards her car.

Maybe it was time to leave the sleuthing to the pros.

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**Note: I am so touched by everyone's support and reception of this story. I wrote this entire chapter before the season 2 premiere. I just forgot to upload this in the meantime. Anyway, this story won't be following season 2 except for bits and pieces of the Lockwood Curse. As promised, starting with next chapter, this story will start to cruise along.**


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